Sibling Rivalry
by MCFan008
Summary: Rusty gets his tonsils out, and Ricky is jealous. I recently turned one of my friends on to Major Crimes, and she's getting her tonsils out later this week, so she asked for some reading material. Maybe I'll stop torturing Rusty for a while after this...or maybe not :)
1. Chapter 1

_**Slightly AU (I think that's what you would call it?) We meet Ricky and Emily in the first season instead of the third.**_

"Great work. All of you. Let's get out of here," Sharon said to her squad at 4:00 on a Wednesday afternoon. They had just wrapped up a case. After working long hours for the last week, everyone was grateful for an early escape. Sharon found Rusty at an empty table, staring listlessly at his homework. "You ready to go?" Rusty looked down at his phone.

"So early?"

"Yes. We finished the case, so I let everyone go." Rusty slowly packed his book bag and followed Sharon to the elevator. He hadn't been feeling well for the last couple of days, but he was feeling considerably worse today. Sharon working long hours meant that he had been spending long hours at the station, since he was still in "emergency custody." He had caught a few naps in the green chair in her office while she had been either in the murder room or interviewing suspects, so, thankfully, she hadn't noticed. He didn't know how she would react to him being sick, and he wasn't eager to find out. He knew she wouldn't hurt him like some of his former foster parents, or his mother's alcoholic boyfriends, but he knew she would probably be annoyed. With her busy schedule, she wouldn't want to take the time to deal with him, or to risk getting sick and being out of commission. Now that he knew his mother wasn't coming back for him, he knew that living with Sharon was, by far, his best option, so he was trying not to be any trouble, especially since he had trouble keeping his temper in check. He was afraid she would decide he was too much work and dump him back into the system.

When they got home, Sharon decided to take advantage of the early exit from work and cook dinner. She loved cooking, especially now that there was someone else to feed. It seemed silly to cook for just one person. She didn't get home in time to cook dinner very often, though. She got out ingredients for a chicken casserole, which was her favorite recipe of her mother's.

Rusty stood in the living room, trying to decide what to do. He usually did his homework either on the couch or in his room, on days that he didn't finish it at the station. If he went to his room, he would undoubtedly fall asleep, and Sharon would have to wake him for dinner. She would probably notice that he was sick then. He decided to work on the couch, with his back to Sharon's desk. She would probably sit at her desk and work on her computer while dinner cooked, and he wanted to stay out of her line of vision as much as possible. He had looked through the kitchen and bathroom cabinets for Tylenol or any kind of medicine on Monday when Sharon wasn't paying attention, but he hadn't been able to find anything. With 24 hour supervision, he hadn't been able to buy some on his own. He was actually disappointed that Sharon's case was over, because now that she wasn't so busy and preoccupied, he knew it would be more difficult to hide the fact that he was sick. He sat up and stared at an open book until Sharon put the casserole in the oven and sat at her desk. Once she sat down, Rusty knew he had a little while before dinner would be ready. His eyes were growing heavy, and he just needed to close them for a couple of minutes before he finished his homework...Rusty fell asleep to the savory smell of the casserole cooking and the sound of Sharon clacking away on her computer.

After about an hour and a half of working on her computer, Sharon got up to get the casserole out of the oven. She realized she hadn't heard a peep from Rusty. That was odd. She looked over to the couch and saw that he was sound asleep. That was _very_ odd. He was hell on this earth to get out of bed in the mornings, but she had never known him to take a nap in the afternoon. He _had_ just started school, though, and she had been dragging him out of the condo earlier than normal in the mornings because of the case, so it made sense that he was tired. Especially since he hadn't attended school in at least a year, and had to readjust to the early hours and long days.

Something about Rusty had been bothering her for the last couple of days, though. She hadn't been able to put her finger on it. Something from the case had demanded her attention every time she stopped to think about it, so she hadn't had time to dwell on it. After a few minutes of watching him sleep, it finally hit her. The boy was sick. Of course. His cheeks were flushed, and she recalled his eyes looking weak and glassy for the last couple of days. She had written it off to him being tired and hadn't thought anything else of it. God, she was out of practice.

 _Now_ what? She thought about her own children. With Ricky, this never would have been an issue. When he was sick, he started complaining at the first sign of discomfort, and didn't stop until after he was well and she had to force him to return to school. Emily was the opposite. Even when she was burning with fever, she would adamantly deny being sick, not wanting to miss school or dance class. For this reason, Sharon was on high alert when she noticed the slightest change in Emily's behavior. She and Emily didn't have the barrier that currently existed between herself and Rusty, though. When Sharon noticed that Emily was sick, she would feel her forehead, take her temperature, order her to stay home, take her to the doctor after a couple of days, if necessary, and keep her home until she was well.

Sharon wasn't sure how to proceed with Rusty, though. For one thing, she didn't even own a thermometer. The one she had while her children lived at home had broken several years ago, and, no longer having children in her home, she had thrown it out without replacing it. She also wasn't positive that Rusty was sick. A simple touch to his forehead would let her know one way or the other, but she wasn't sure how he would accept her touch. He _was_ asleep, though...

Sharon crouched down beside the couch, observing the pained expression on Rusty's face and the fevered flush to his cheeks. She held a tentative hand to his forehead.

Rusty jerked awake and jumped into a sitting position before she could gauge his temperature. "What the _hell_ , Sharon?!"

"I'm sorry. You just look like you're not feeling well. Are you sick?"

"So, you thought you'd scare the living hell out of me?" Rusty said, ignoring her question.

His voice was definitely scratchy. "It wasn't my intention to frighten you. I just wanted to see if you were running a fever."

"I'm not sick. I'm fine. And haven't you heard of a thermometer?"

"Believe it or not, I have. I just don't happen to own one at the moment, because I haven't needed one since the thermometer I did own broke several years ago. Now, if you'll be still for two seconds, I can determine whether I need one now." Sharon sat on the couch and tenderly placed her hand on his forehead to check for a fever. Rusty didn't look uncomfortable, he just seemed surprised at the gesture.

"You feel pretty warm," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "What hurts?"

"Nothing. I told you I'm fine."

"Rusty. If you're not feeling well, I need to know."

Rusty turned and buried his face into the back of the couch.

"All right, fine. Put your shoes on while I get you a change of clothes."

"What? Where are we going?"

"The emergency room. Your fever tells me that you are not _fine_. If you're too sick to even tell me what's wrong, then I can't help you. You clearly need immediate medical attention."

" _God_ , Sharon, okay. My throat just kind of hurts. Happy?"

"That you answered my question? Yes. That your throat hurts? No." Rusty's eyes widened, and Sharon realized she should clarify her answer. "I just meant that I don't like seeing you in pain. I'm not angry, I'm concerned. Being sick is beyond your control, and I will be here to take care of you until you are well," Sharon said, inwardly fuming at whomever had instilled such fear in him of telling a parental figure that he was sick.

"You don't have to do that, Sharon. I'll be fine. I'm not living in the streets, and there's no danger of me getting hit in the face. This is already a huge upgrade from the last few times I've been sick."

"Oh, honey," Sharon said, the moniker slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it. She studied Rusty for a reaction. He didn't seem annoyed, just once again surprised. Sharon realized what Rusty's biggest problem was. He needed to be shown some love. She put her hands on his warm cheeks, making sure he knew what she was doing first. "How long have you been feeling ill?"

"Since Monday," Rusty responded truthfully, hoping that would show her that he really could take care of himself, since it had already been two days.

Sharon looked surprised. Why hadn't he _told_ her? How had she not _noticed_? Admittedly, she had been busy and distracted, but she still should have noticed before now that something wasn't right.

"I'm so sorry I haven't noticed before now. You need to tell me when you're not feeling well, Rusty. My 'mother's eye' is a little out of practice. Even if I'm busy at work, I will never be too busy to take care of you. And I _will_ take care of you, whether you like it or not."

Rusty was dumbfounded. He was sick, and undoubtedly a burden, and Sharon was _apologizing_? What the hell?

Sharon mentally took inventory of her condo. She knew she didn't have a thermometer, but did she even have Tylenol? Doubtful. She got up and started rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

"If you're looking for medicine, there's not any," Rusty called hoarsely from the couch. A pang of guilt hit Sharon. She had no idea when he had searched for medicine, and she should have had some on hand for him. Thank goodness for grocery delivery. Sharon found her phone and ordered a thermometer, medicine for every symptom she could think of, several different kinds of soup, popsicles, bottled water, and Gatorade.

"What color Gatorade do you like?" Sharon asked before completing her order.

"Red."

"I'm ordering groceries. What else do you want?"

Rusty honestly didn't know. "Whatever you get is fine. Thank you."

"All right. If you think of anything you want, let me know. I can place another order tomorrow."

Sharon submitted her order and went into the kitchen. She returned shortly with a glass of water and plates of chicken casserole for herself and Rusty.

"Try to eat this, but it's okay if you don't want it. I'll make you some soup once the groceries are delivered if you would rather have that. You will have to eat something, though."

Rusty accepted the plate from Sharon and slowly began to eat. "This is awesome, Sharon."

Sharon smiled. "I'm glad you like it." She smoothed Rusty's bangs back from his forehead. He only flinched a little this time. "I know what the first order of business is when you're well."

"I know, I know. _Civility_ ," Rusty said, remembering their conversation in her car a few days ago.

"No. A haircut." Rusty groaned.

An hour and a half later, the groceries were delivered. Sharon approached Rusty with the thermometer, Tylenol, sore throat medicine, and a bottle of water. She held the thermometer under his tongue. "101.7," she sighed, looking at the thermometer.

"I'm sorry," Rusty said softly.

"Please don't apologize. You can't help it. I'm just worried. Everyone gets sick from time to time. It is not a problem, I promise." Sharon gave Rusty some Tylenol and throat medicine, then brought him a Popsicle and a mug of tea. The popcicle felt good on his throat. No one had ever given him a popcicle, or taken care of him at all, before when he was sick. He hated to admit it, but it felt nice to be cared for.

"Take a shower and get in bed. I'll come watch a movie with you if you can't go to sleep." Rusty got up and walked down the hall. He didn't think sleeping would be a problem. Sharon cleaned the kitchen and sipped a glass of wine while Rusty was taking a shower. She walked back to his room with a bottle of water a few minutes after she heard him leave the bathroom. He was under his covers, almost asleep. She sat on the side of his bed and felt his forehead.

"Call me if you need me," Sharon said softly. "It doesn't matter if I'm asleep." Rusty nodded and rolled over. Sharon hesitantly started rubbing his back, pleased when he didn't flinch or move away from her.

"Thanks, Sharon," Rusty mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

"You're welcome, honey. Feel better." Once she was sure he was asleep, Sharon leaned down and kissed his warm forehead and left the room, leaving the door ajar.


	2. Chapter 2

Rusty woke when his alarm went off the next morning, unsure of what to do. Sharon knew he was sick, but what did she expect him to do? She couldn't leave him at home because of the "emergency custody" thing. Could she? No, she would probably still send him to school or drag him to work with her. He would actually rather go to school than hang around the station all day. He felt pretty miserable, but he could handle a day of school.. He lay there, trying to summon the energy to open his eyes. Waking hadn't been a problem the last time he was sick, given that he was living in the streets, but trying to get out of this warm and comfortable bed was an entirely different story.

Rusty's deliberation was interrupted when he felt Sharon's soft, cool hand on his forehead. He hadn't even heard her come in the room. He flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, but quickly calmed, and let out an involuntary, contented hum. God, this felt good. Pleased that her touch had calmed him so, Sharon let her hand linger on his forehead for a few moments.

Rusty opened his eyes and looked up at Sharon. She was in her nightgown, hair pulled back, no make-up, and she wasn't wearing her glasses. He had only seen her without her glasses a few times, and he had never seen her when she wasn't immaculately dressed and groomed. She had the thermometer and bottle of Tylenol in her hand.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Sharon had informed Chief Taylor and Provenza the evening before that she wouldn't be in for the rest of the week. She had slept in a little, but got up when she heard Rusty's alarm go off.

"You didn't. I'll be ready in a few minutes," Rusty said, sitting up. His throat hurt even worse today. His voice was barely a whisper. Sharon gently grasped his shoulders and guided him back down to his pillows.

"You're sick, Rusty. You're not going anywhere."

"I didn't think you could leave me alone," Rusty said, confused.

"I can't. And I'm not. I wouldn't leave you alone, even if I could. I haven't taken a sick day in seven years, I think the LAPD can spare me for a couple of days."

"Really, Sharon. I don't feel that bad. I can go to school, or I can go to work with you."

"That is out of the question. Your temperature feels higher than it did yesterday. When you're sick, you stay home."

"Another rule," Rusty grumbled.

"A rule I didn't think you would complain about," Sharon said lightly. "Now, let me take your temperature."

"Why does it matter?" Rusty muttered. "I'm sick. I get it."

"I need to know whether to take you to the doctor. Now, open."

Rusty groaned, but opened his mouth for the thermometer. Sharon held it under his tongue, and brushed his bangs back from his forehead with her free hand while she waited for it to beep.

"102.7. That's high, but not dangerously so. When did your throat start hurting?"

"Monday."

"When did you start feeling sluggish and achy, like you had a fever? Do you have any idea?"

Rusty had had enough of these throat infections in the last couple of years to know when he had a fever. "Tuesday. Maybe Monday night."

"I'm sorry, honey. I should have known." Sharon was still kicking herself for not noticing that he was sick.

"You're not a mind-reader, Sharon. It's not your fault."

"I can usually spot a fever from a mile away. It _is_ my fault. I've been distracted, and you suffered because of it."

"It's okay. Really. Just don't hit me, and we won't have a problem."

Sharon's heart broke at Rusty's low expectations for care. "Is anything besides your throat bothering you?" Rusty shook his head. "Do you have a headache?" Sharon pressed. Rusty started to shake his head, but slowly nodded instead. She was asking the questions like she already knew the answers, anyway. "Does your stomach feel all right?" Rusty nodded. "You don't sound congested, and you haven't been coughing," Sharon said thoughtfully. "You're clearly in a lot of pain. I'll call the doctor when her office opens, and try to get you an appointment for today."

"Please, no," Rusty mumbled.

"Your fever is too high to not get it checked out. And I'm afraid you might have Strep Throat, which requires antibiotics." Sharon was determined, so Rusty didn't mention that he had had this same infection repeatedly for the last two years, and it had always gone away with no medicine. Frequent sickness was also another strike against him. Occasional illness was one thing, but Sharon wouldn't want to keep him if she knew he was going to get sick every couple of months. He had hoped that being off of the streets and in a much cleaner environment would stop the infections, but apparently not.

"So, what happens if, like, I start getting sick a lot or something," Rusty asked shyly.

"Then I will take care of you a lot. Your home is right here," Sharon said, understanding that being sick gave Rusty a sense of instability. She gave him two Tylenol and handed him his bottle of water from his nightstand.

"I'll be right back with breakfast and some throat medicine."

"I'm not hungry."

"That wasn't a question," Sharon said as she squeezed Rusty's shoulder and left the room.

After breakfast, Sharon took their dishes to the kitchen and called her doctor's office. She poured a glass of Gatorade for Rusty and went back to his room.

"Do you want to go back to sleep, or do you want me to bring you a movie from the living room? You can watch something on your computer if you don't think you can sleep."

"Sleep," Rusty said tiredly. Sharon tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

"Text me if you need me," she said before leaving his room. She changed into yoga pants and a sweater, straightened up the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and sat at her desk to work. It felt odd not sitting with Rusty, at least until he went to sleep, as she always did with her older children. He wasn't accustomed to being taken care of, and she didn't want to smother him. She checked on Rusty periodically until lunchtime, and he remained asleep until noon.

Sharon was cleaning the bathroom when she heard Rusty stirring. She went into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?" She asked, holding her hand to his forehead. The Tylenol had definitely worn off.

"Same."

"I couldn't get you in with Dr. Sheridan until tomorrow," Sharon said apologetically.

"Sharon. Before I was attacked by Phillip Stroh, I had never been to the doctor, except one time to get shots the first time I went into foster care. I can deal with it."

"Well, around here, we don't _deal with it._ We make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and go to the doctor if necessary, when we're sick." Sharon gave Rusty two Tylenol, then poured some throat medicine into a spoon.

"This stuff didn't come in pills?" Rusty grumbled.

"Yes, but liquid works better. Open." Rusty allowed Sharon to feed him the medicine, but he felt like a child.

"Is soup okay for lunch?" Sharon asked.

"Yeah...But are there any leftovers from dinner last night?"

"Yes. You just sound like your throat is more sore today, so I thought soup might feel better on your throat."

"Small price to pay." Sharon smiled, and got up to fix lunch.

"Finish your Gatorade," she instructed.

After lunch, Rusty opted to watch a movie, given that he had slept all morning. Sharon brought him a popsicle and settled in bed beside him to watch it with him, not wanting him to feel alone. He fell asleep halfway through the movie, but Sharon stayed until it was over. She straightened the covers over Rusty and gently felt his forehead, relieved when he didn't wake up. He still felt too warm, though.

Sharon placed Rusty's computer on the floor and got up to leave. Rusty became restless, so she sat back down and started rubbing his back. He soon calmed, and Sharon leaned down and kissed his hot forehead before leaving the room. She worked some more at her desk in the living room, getting up every so often to check on Rusty. He ambled into the living room at 5:30 and sat on the couch.

"You can turn the TV on," Sharon said, closing her computer and getting up to get the medicine and a bottle of water from the kitchen. After administering some Advil and throat medicine, Sharon got up to get a blanket from the hall closet. She came back and draped it snugly around his shoulders, then went to the kitchen and got him a popsicle to eat while she made him some tea. A few minutes later, she poured two mugs of tea and joined Rusty on the couch. She reached over and felt his forehead, concerned when she felt that his temperature hadn't dropped at all.

"I hate that you're feeling so bad."

"It's not so bad. I've been worse." Sharon ran her fingers through his hair, trying not to think about Rusty being sicker than he was now, with no one to take care of him.

Later that night, Sharon took Rusty's temperature and put him to bed. His fever had gone up to 103.3. She gave him some Tylenol PM and throat medicine before tucking him in. She went to the bathroom for a lukewarm cloth, and came back to wipe his face, hoping to bring his temperature down. She stroked his hair with her free hand, and she could tell he wasn't far from falling asleep.

"Wake me if you need me. I promise I don't mind." Rusty nodded, drifting off to sleep. Sharon sat with him for thirty more minutes, wiping his face and neck. She got up to start a load of laundry, then came back and checked his forehead. She could tell that his fever had gone down some, so she didn't want to wake him to take his temperature. She put an extra bottle of water on his nightstand, in case he woke up thirsty, then placed a couple of extra blankets beside him, in case he got cold. Unable to find anything else to do for him, Sharon felt his forehead one last time and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Sharon woke at 7:00 on Friday morning, and immediately checked on Rusty. He was sleeping fairly peacefully, so she started the coffee maker and took a shower.. She sat on the couch in her robe, sipping coffee and watching the news, enjoying being at home and not rushing around at this hour. An hour and a half later, it was time to wake Rusty for his appointment. She made pancakes for both of them and carried the plates back to his room.

Rusty woke when he felt Sharon sit on the side of his bed, but his eyes felt too heavy to open just yet. He felt like he had just fallen asleep. "Wake up, honey," He heard her say in her soft, soothing voice as she patted his back. "Come on, honey, you need to eat breakfast so we can go to the doctor. Your appointment is at 9:30."

"Don't need doctor. Just let me sleep."

"Five more minutes," Sharon conceded. But you need to get up when I come back." She went to the kitchen for the thermometer and medicine. When she got back to Rusty's room, she sat on his bed, rubbing his back and watching the clock, until his five minutes were up. Okay, fine, she gave him seven minutes.

"Okay, Rusty, you need to get up now," Sharon said, patting his back. Rusty groaned, but sat up. Sharon placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "You're not feeling any better, are you," she commented when she felt the heat that met her hand. Rusty shook his head. She took his temperature and gave him some Tylenol before retrieving their plates from his dresser. They sat on Rusty's bed and ate in comfortable silence, with Sharon brushing Rusty's hair out of his eyes periodically. God, he was burning up. His temperature had been 103.5.

"We need to leave in twenty minutes," Sharon said, handing Rusty some clean clothes. Rusty nodded and headed for the shower.

Later that morning, Sharon sat with Rusty in Dr. Sheridan's waiting room. When the nurse called his name, she hesitated. Should she go to the exam room with him? She knew he wouldn't have to undress at all or answer any embarrassing questions; this was just a straight-forward sick visit. Her children had always wanted her to go with them, and she felt like she should explain her relationship to Rusty to Dr. Sheridan. She didn't want Rusty to feel like she was babying him, though. She debated for a few moments when Rusty stood up, until he looked at her like he expected her to follow him. Pleased, Sharon got up and walked with him to the waiting nurse.

Dr. Sheridan did a quick exam and diagnosed Rusty with tonsillitis. She prescribed an antibiotic and gave instructions to rest and not to return to school until his temperature had been normal for 24 hours. Sharon thanked her and they left.

After picking up the antibiotic and arriving home, Sharon tucked Rusty into bed. "Are you hungry, or do you want to sleep for a while before lunch?" He had eaten a good breakfast, so she wasn't going to make him eat again just yet if he didn't want to.

"Sleep..." Rusty murmured. Sharon gave him his antibiotic and some Tylenol and sat on his bed, rubbing his back, until he fell asleep. Two hours later, she was working at her desk when she heard Rusty run across the hall and slam the bathroom door. Surely, he wasn't sick to his stomach? Sharon got a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and crept down the hall, listening outside the bathroom door. She heard the unmistakable sound of him getting sick. She knocked on the door.

"Rusty? I'm coming in," she called. Sharon waited a few moments before slowly opening the door. Rusty was on the floor, throwing up into the toilet. "Oh, honey," she said, wetting a wash cloth in the sink.

"Don't worry, Shar-" Rusty gasped between heaves. Sharon kneeled beside him, patting his back and wiping his face as he threw up. He was shaking when he finished. Sharon flushed the toilet and pulled him into her arms. Rusty was a little frightened. As many times as he had had what he now knew was Tonsillitis, he had never thrown up with it before.

"I'm sorry," Rusty murmured as Sharon continued to hold him.

"Rusty. You do not need to apologize. You couldn't help it. Have you ever taken antibiotics before?" Sharon asked, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. Rusty shook his head. "That's probably why you got sick. I should have gotten you to eat something before you took it. I'll call Dr. Sheridan on Monday if this keeps up and taking the medicine with food doesn't help. Let's get you back in bed." Sharon gave Rusty the bottle of water to rinse his mouth out and guided him out of the bathroom.

Rusty's grasp on Sharon tightened. "Can I, um, watch TV in the living room?" He asked shyly.

Sharon recognized his need to be near her, and teared up a little. He hadn't really seemed to need her before now. Of course, he needed the obvious things, like clothes, food, shelter, and school, but he hadn't needed her on a more personal level until now. She didn't realize how much she had missed being needed.

Sharon composed herself. "Of course," she said, turning to go to the living room. "Sit in a chair while I make you some lunch. I'll put some sheets on the couch while you eat." Rusty sat, and Sharon brought him some ginger ale before making him some soup.

After lunch, Sharon sat with Rusty on the couch, watching TV. After tucking a sheet into the couch cushions, she had gotten Rusty's pillow and comforter from his room. While they watched TV, Rusty was shifting closer and closer to Sharon. After a while, Sharon put his pillow in her lap and tapped it gently. "Lie down, honey," she said when she saw the confused look on his face. He gingerly lay down, as if he still wasn't sure it was okay. Sharon straightened his comforter and tucked it around him. Rusty felt stiff and uncomfortable in her lap, so Sharon rubbed his back and ran her fingers through his hair, hoping he would relax. As he slowly became less tense, Sharon held her hand to his forehead, relieved that the Tylenol seemed to be working. Her hand remained on his forehead, fingers lightly stroking his warm skin, until he was asleep.

Rusty slept until almost 5:00 and woke up shivering. Sharon's hand automatically went to his forehead. "You need some more medicine," Sharon said, carefully separating herself from Rusty and standing up. She heated up the last of the chicken casserole from earlier that week while she gave Rusty some Advil, then gave him his antibiotic after he had eaten.

Later that night, Sharon was in bed, almost asleep, when she heard Rusty being sick again. She looked at her clock. Rusty had been asleep for almost two hours. _Damn it,_ Sharon thought. She wasn't annoyed with Rusty at all, she just hated that he was so sick. Throwing up probably made his throat hurt even worse, but he had yet to complain. Sharon got up and went into the bathroom. Her body seemed to be on autopilot. She had a cool cloth in her hand and was patting Rusty's back before she even thought about what she was doing.

"You didn't have to get up, Sharon. I'm sorry I woke you," Rusty said once his stomach had calmed down.

"I wasn't asleep, and I want to take care of you," Sharon said, leading Rusty out of the bathroom. Rusty hesitated in the hallway, looking nervous. "I'm going right back to sleep, Sharon. You don't have to sit with me."

"I know, honey, but I don't want to leave you awake and alone. You're due for some Tylenol, anyway," Sharon said, pressing her hand to his burning forehead. He had fallen asleep before she was able to give him another dose earlier that evening.

"Well, um, I just want to change my sheets really quick. They're sweaty and gross. I'll take some Tylenol before I go to sleep, I promise."

"Oh, I'll do that. Go lie down in my bed."

God, couldn't this woman take a _hint?!_

 _"_ Sharon, stop. My sheets aren't sweaty and gross. They're..vomit-y and gross. I didn't wake up in time, and, well...you know."

Sharon didn't know whether to be amused or sad at how embarrassed Rusty was. It's not like he did it on purpose, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time she had dealt with vomit-y sheets.

"That's not a problem, Rusty. This isn't my first rodeo, I can assure you." Rusty followed Sharon into his room, determined to clean up his own mess. Sharon approached his bed, and, not seeing much of a mess, pulled back the comforter to see if there was more damage.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Rusty, you hardly got any on the sheets at all. They do need to be changed, though. Go get in my bed while I take care of this, and then I'll tell you a story that will make you feel much better about this, I promise."

"Sharo-"

" _Now_." Rusty knew that tone of voice. He meekly turned around and headed for Sharon's room. Sharon took him a glass of ginger ale before putting fresh sheets on his bed. She inspected the comforter, but it was still clean. She tucked Rusty back into his bed and gave him some Tylenol PM.

"All right, what's this story?"

Sharon smiled. The story was actually pretty funny, but it wasn't so funny when it happened. She climbed in bed beside Rusty and placed his head against her shoulder, stroking his hair as she spoke.

"One time, when Ricky was sick, he woke up one night and couldn't go back to sleep, so he came and got in bed with me. He woke up in the midst of throwing up, and it was pointless to run to the bathroom at that point. I somehow slept through all of that, and he didn't bother to wake me. I found out about it the next morning, when I rolled over and got it all. Over. Me. Ricky was still sleeping, like he didn't have a care in the world. I. Was. Livid."

"You can't blame a kid for that, though."

"You're right. 17 year olds, on the other hand, I hold to slightly higher standards."

" _What_?!"

"True story. I know he didn't mean to throw up in my bed, and I didn't mind cleaning it. He was sick and couldn't help it. But he could have at least _warned_ me!"

"Yeah, I'll give you that. If I ever throw up all over your bed, I promise I'll wake you up."

"That's all I ask."

Rusty felt considerably better by Sunday, and was able to return to school on Monday. His body had adjusted to the antibiotics, so getting sick to his stomach was no longer a problem. On the way to school Monday morning, Sharon gave him his doctor's excuse for his absences. "Rusty. If you ever feel sick at school, please go to the infirmary. I promise, it's not a problem for me to come pick you up. Are we clear?" Rusty nodded, as Sharon pulled into the school. "Bye, honey. Have a good day."

"Bye, Sharon. And...Thanks," Rusty said sheepishly, as he picked up his book bag and got out of the car.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks so much for the reviews! I know I've written Ricky as a bit of a brat, but that's how he struck me on the show. Thanks for reading!**_

One Wednesday afternoon a few weeks later, toward the end of October, Sharon was alone, reviewing the information for the latest case on the murder board. The rest of the team was in the field, investigating. The victim had been a teenaged boy, close to Rusty's age. The boy even reminded Sharon a little of Rusty. Her heart ached for the boy's parents. The most likely suspect was a schoolmate of the victim, and all they had left to do was find the suspect and obtain a confession. Sharon's thoughts wandered back to Rusty. Now that his biological father had relinquished his parental rights and it was becoming increasingly clear that Sharon Beck was not coming back anytime soon, Sharon felt a stronger sense of familial ownership with Rusty. He was no longer in "emergency custody," so he was free to do as he wanted after school. He often came to the station, anyway, but Sharon found that she missed him on days that he didn't come after school.

Sharon was removing photos of suspects whom had been cleared and erasing clues that had been dead ends when someone grabbed her from behind. Alarmed, she turned around quickly.

" _Wha-_ Ricky! Oh, my, what a surprise! What are you doing here?" She asked, enveloping her son in a warm embrace. "Wait, are you okay? Is Emily okay?" Sharon couldn't imagine why Ricky would show up unannounced at all, much less on an insignificant Wednesday.

"Relax, Mom, everyone's fine. I had to be in LA today and tomorrow for work, so I decided to take Friday off, and make a long weekend of it. I see that I succeeded in surprising you!"

"Yes, you did! I'm so happy to see you!" Sharon said, hugging him again.

"So, where is everyone?"

"Hunting down a suspect. They should be back soon."

Meanwhile, Rusty had arrived home from school. He felt like he was getting sick again, so he wanted to take a nap before Sharon came home. She had a case and would likely be home later than usual, so he figured he would have time for a good nap and to finish his homework before she got home. Luckily, he had gotten most of it done during study hall that afternoon. He took some Tylenol, swallowed some throat medicine, and lay down on the couch, falling asleep almost immediately.

Sharon's team returned at 4:30 with the news that the suspect was on a school trip and wouldn't be returning until late Sunday night. They wanted to wait until he returned to question him, not wanting to alarm him and push him to hire an attorney. There wasn't much else that could be done, so everyone left early.

"How have you been getting around today? Did you rent a car?" Sharon asked as they were leaving.

"No, I took a couple of cabs today, but I can use your other car tomorrow, right?"

"Well, actually, Rusty's been taking it to school."

"Oh..." Sharon noticed Ricky grimace. They had arrived at her car, and they both climbed in. Sharon thought for a few moments. She didn't want Ricky and Rusty's first meeting to start on the wrong foot. "I'll tell you what. You can drop me off at work in the morning and use this car." Ricky seemed appeased, and Sharon updated Ricky on the latest developments with Rusty on the way home. Rusty and Ricky had talked on the phone before, and Ricky had seemed genuinely supportive of his presence. Today, though, he seemed...different.

"Rusty?" Sharon called as she and Ricky entered her condo. "You're not going to believe who's he-" she paused when she saw him asleep on the couch. She was surprised, but he _had_ been through a lot lately. It made sense that he was tired. She covered him with a blanket from the hall closet and gently pulled his shoes off. Taking a closer look at him, she brushed his hair out of his eyes, noting that he didn't feel feverish. Sharon saw no signs of an afternoon snack, so she put a glass of juice on the coffee table in case Rusty was thirsty when he woke up.

Ricky watched as Sharon doted on Rusty, feeling a little pang of...What? Jealousy? He had been fine with Rusty moving in with his mom from the beginning, but it was different now that he was here, seeing the way his mom's face lit up when she talked about Rusty, hearing about him taking over her spare car, and watching her care for Rusty. Ricky knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't help himself. He was also just now realizing that he would be relegated to the couch to sleep, since Rusty had undoubtedly taken over his room.

"We should let him sleep for a little bit, and then we can all go out for dinner," Sharon said quietly to Ricky. She had resumed brushing Rusty's bangs back from his face. Since the debacle with his biological father, Sharon's need to make Rusty feel protected and loved had intensified. She caught the odd look on Ricky's face, and couldn't quite read his expression.

"You know, since we have a driver, we could enjoy the nice weather and have a little happy hour on the balcony until he wakes up," Sharon said, nodding toward Rusty and standing up.

"Best idea I've heard today...I don't suppose you have any beer?" Ricky said as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Look in the pantry...There may be some left over from the last time you were here. I definitely don't have any that's cold, though," Sharon said apologetically. Ricky dug through the pantry and found a six-pack of Blue Moon.

"No problem," Ricky said, putting two beers in the freezer. He opened a third one and poured it over ice. Not ideal, but it would get the job done. Sharon slipped out of her jacket and poured herself a generous glass of wine, and they walked out to the balcony. Given the combination of the nice weather and their excitement of seeing each other, Sharon's wine and Ricky's beer were drained pretty quickly. Sharon went inside to replenish their beverages.

Ricky was rarely home when Emily wasn't also home, and he was enjoying the one-on-one time with his mom. He and Emily got along fine, but he loved the rare times he had his mother's undivided attention. He watched Sharon walk to the kitchen, detouring by the couch to feel Rusty's forehead, like she thought he may be sick. _God, Mom, a teenager is taking a nap. Call the paramedics,_ Ricky thought bitterly to himself. He continued watching as Sharon straightened the blanket over Rusty, refilled her wine, and retrieved a beer from the freezer. He couldn't figure out why it bothered him so to see his mom taking care of another kid. It was just weird.

Ricky pushed his bitter thoughts away when Sharon returned and their lighthearted chatter resumed. They had gotten the boring work and 'no-I-don't-have-a-girlfriend' conversations out of the way, and Sharon was telling Ricky about some of the funny things that had happened since she had gotten a new job. That Provenza person sounded hilarious.

Rusty woke, disoriented, when the sun began to set and the living room was flooded with light. His throat hurt a little worse and he had a headache, but he knew he didn't have a fever. He didn't have to wonder if Sharon was already home. The blanket he was covered with, the absence of his shoes that he had been too tired to take off, and the glass of juice on the coffee table made it obvious that she was home. He drank a few sips of juice, grateful that Sharon had left it for him. Crap, did she already know he was sick? Surely not.

Rusty heard Sharon's laughter and a familiar male voice that he couldn't quite place coming from the balcony. He looked outside, and realized Ricky was home. Rusty recognized him from pictures. He was surprised Sharon hadn't mentioned he was coming for a visit. He picked up his glass of juice and walked outside.

"Hi, honey. You okay?"

Rusty nodded. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

Sharon accepted that. "Look who surprised me at work today! He's staying through the weekend."

"That's great. Hi, Ricky," Rusty said, holding out his hand.

"Hi, Rusty," Ricky said uneasily, shaking his hand.

"Let's go eat." Sharon said. Rusty groaned inwardly. He really didn't want to go anywhere.

"Can I change first?" Rusty asked, still in his school uniform.

"Of course."

"You mind driving, Rusty? We've had a couple of drinks," Sharon said, handing him her keys when Rusty returned.

"Sure."

Later, when they got home, Rusty quickly finished his homework and went to bed early. He was glad Sharon had a distraction. Dinner hadn't gone very well. Ricky had made a couple of snide comments about Rusty "freeloading" and invading Ricky's territory. The comments had gone unnoticed by Sharon, which slightly unnerved Rusty. Sharon hadn't really been drunk, but, for the first time, Rusty could tell she was feeling the effects of the wine she had been drinking. Although Sharon drank wine after getting home most nights, she only had one glass. _Maybe_ two. Encounters with drunk adults never ended well in Rusty's experience. He knew Sharon would never hurt him, though, so he pushed those thoughts away and went to sleep.

The next morning, Rusty gathered his school things and went into the kitchen, hoping to make a quick exit. Being sick and taking more of Sharon's attention would only make things worse with Ricky.

"Good morning, honey...Are you feeling all right?" Sharon noticed Rusty's weak-looking eyes right away.

"I'm fine, Sharon. I need to get going."

"Oh, you have a few minutes before you need to go. I made pancakes. Sit." Rusty joined Ricky at the table. Sharon put a plate and a glass of juice in front of Rusty. He picked at his pancakes, his lack of appetite stemming partly from not feeling well, and partly from the looks he was getting from Ricky.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Sharon asked when she noticed Rusty pushing his food around his plate. She walked over to Rusty and felt his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever, but you don't look like you feel well," she said, putting her hand under his chin and studying him critically.

"I'm okay." Rusty turned from Sharon and ate a few bites. He forced down a little over half of his food so Sharon wouldn't worry.

"I want to take your temperature, just in case..."

"Shar-"

"Humor me." Sharon found the thermometer, and held it under his tongue. "Well, it's normal, but are you sure you feel okay to go to school? Your voice sounds a little scratchy."

"Yeah. I'll see you tonight." Rusty quickly gathered his school things and keys and left.

"Wow, Mom, when did you become so soft? I had to be dying before you would let me miss school," Ricky commented.

"No, you had to be running a fever, on account of your habit of trying to fake illness. Last time Rusty was sick, he tried to hide it."

Ricky quickly changed the subject. "I'll be finished by noon today. Can we go to lunch?"

"That would be great. We'll probably be a little slow today. And I'll cook dinner tonight."

Later that day, Ricky entered Sharon's office after he had finished with work. "Ready to go to lunch?"

"Sorry, honey, but St. Joseph's just called. Rusty's sick, and we need to go pick him up."

"Mom, he's probably faking. From the way you were hovering over him this morning, he knew you would believe him."

"The school nurse said his temperature is 101. He's not faking."

"Can't he just drive home?" Ricky persisted.

"I don't want him driving when he's not feeling well, and since you're with me, you can drive his car home."

"But we can still go after we take him home, right?"

"No, honey, I'm not leaving him. You can pick up something for lunch on the way home, if you wish. I have leftovers from last night I can eat." Ricky sighed in exasperation.

When they arrived at the school, Ricky followed Sharon inside so he could get Rusty's keys. He watched as his mom knelt beside Rusty and held her hand to his forehead, hummed sympathetically, then kissed it.

"You do have a fever," Sharon murmured softly. She signed Rusty out and picked up his book bag. "Let's get you home. Give Ricky your keys, he'll take your car home." Sharon put her arm around Rusty and led him to her car. Ricky followed closely behind, with a scowl on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

When they got home, Sharon settled Rusty in his bed. He wasn't really sick enough to want to sleep all day, but with Ricky sleeping on the couch, she wanted to isolate the germs as much as possible. After he had eaten, Sharon took his temperature and gave him some Tylenol. His temperature had risen over a degree in the short time since his temperature had been taken at school. Since the next day was Friday, she had gone ahead and made him a doctor's appointment. She had a bad feeling about the fact that it had been less than two months since the last time he was sick, and she was afraid he would get worse over the weekend if she didn't go ahead and take him.

Rusty was a little embarrassed about being picked up early from school by Sharon, especially with Ricky in tow. When his English teacher asked if he was feeling sick, he had said yes, thinking he would be able to drive home and not bother Sharon. He could have made it through the rest of the day if he had known Sharon would insist on picking him up.

"I'm sorry, Sharon. I didn't mean for you to have to pick me up. I could have-"

"Shh, honey, it's okay," Sharon said, placing her hand on his hot forehead. She could feel Rusty relax under her hand, so she kept it there. "I could tell you were coming down with something, and I was considering picking you up after school, anyway. I'm glad you went to the nurse when you felt too sick to be at school. So, what's the matter?"

"My throat really hurts, and I have a headache."

"Do you feel any different than the last time you were sick?" Rusty shook his head. "You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I hope you can get started on antibiotics before your fever gets too high this time."

Sharon gave Rusty some throat medicine and tucked the covers around him. "Take a little nap, and I'll come watch a movie with you when you wake up. Text me if I don't come in soon after you wake up."

"I'm okay, Sharon. You need to spend some time with Ricky."

"I'll spend plenty of time with Ricky. Don't worry about that." Sharon sat with Rusty until he was asleep. She went to the kitchen and heated up her leftovers from dinner the night before for lunch before changing clothes and joining Ricky in the den. He was doing some things for work on his computer.

"Is Rusty okay?" Ricky asked, embarrassed about his feelings of animosity toward him, hoping his mom wasn't picking up on it.

"He'll be all right, but I'm taking him to the doctor tomorrow. I'm afraid he has Tonsillitis again. He's never had someone take care of him when he's sick before, and he keeps _apologizing_. Not only was he ignored, but I think he was abused when he was sick in the past. He can't seem to fathom the fact that I _want_ to take care of him and help him feel better."

Ricky felt guilty for a moment, thinking about how his mom used to take care of him when he was sick. He knew he wasn't exactly an easy patient. But he realized that there was no way to know if any of this was actually true. He knew his mom had been lonely, and in her excitement at the prospect of having another chance to be a mother, she had probably believed anything the kid told her. And the apologizing thing was definitely an act. The kid just wanted attention, plain and simple.

"So, Mom, um, what else has Rusty told you about his past?"

"Not much. I've tried not to pry, unless I've absolutely needed to know something that wasn't in his file. He didn't come out and tell me anything I just told you, I've just guessed from the way he's acted."

Ricky still wasn't convinced, but he dropped it for the time being. Sharon finished her lunch, prepared ingredients to cook for dinner later, and she and Ricky sat in the living room, chatting and working on their computers. Sharon got up about every twenty minutes to check on Rusty.

"Seriously, Mom, he's not a child. Do you really have to get up every two seconds to check on him?"

"I want to know when he wakes up, and I doubt he'll tell me. I don't want him to be awake and alone for too long."

Sharon heard Rusty start to stir at 3:30, so she made some tea for the two of them and took him a popsicle. She sat on his bed with him and felt his forehead. His fever seemed to have gone down a little. "Want to watch a movie?" She asked after they had finished their tea. Rusty nodded, and Sharon went to the living room to find one.

"Want to come watch a movie with us?" Sharon asked Ricky as she sifted through her movie collection for movies she knew Rusty had ordered from her Amazon account.

"Nah, I think I'll avoid the germs. And you should, too, Mom, you're going to get sick."

"I think my immune system can take it. It's pretty tough, courtesy of you and your sister." Ricky's face flushed. "And, if I do get sick, then I'll deal with it. I'm taking care of Rusty, just like I did with you and Emily." Sharon selected three movies, and took them back to Rusty's room so he could choose one to watch.

When the movie was over, Sharon got up to cook dinner. "Do you want to come in the living room and watch TV, or lie down for a while until dinner's ready?"

"Lie down," Rusty mumbled. He was starting to feel congested, which was weird. That had never happened before when he'd had Tonsillitis. His head was hurting, and he was feeling worse in general. Sharon seemed to read his mind. She brushed his bangs back and felt his forehead.

"Finish your Gatorade, and I'll go get you some Advil," Sharon said, nodding at the glass on his nightstand. Once the glass was empty, she took it to the kitchen to refill, and returned with two pills. "I'll bring you a plate when dinner is ready if you don't feel like coming to the table," Sharon said as she rubbed Rusty's back. He nodded and soon fell asleep.

Ricky was unusually quiet during dinner. Rusty had been unconscious when Sharon went to tell him dinner was ready, so she had decided to let him sleep and would take him a plate later. "Are you okay? I thought this was your favorite," Sharon said when she noticed Ricky pushing his food around his plate.

"Yeah, I just...Thought I'd see you more, that's all. You've been distracted practically since I got here."

"I'm sorry, honey...With Rusty being sick, I am constantly second-guessing myself when it comes to taking care of him. I want him to feel loved and cared for, but I don't want to make him uncomfortable. He requires a little more mental energy than the two of you did."

Of course. _Everything_ was about Rusty these days. Ricky quickly ate his food. "Well, don't let me keep you," he said, and put his plate in the sink before returning to the living room.

 _What was that about_? Sharon thought as she loaded the dishwasher. Although Ricky had heard all about Rusty before his visit, and they had talked a few times on the phone, she could see how in-person interactions could require some time to get used to. She brushed off Ricky's behavior and fixed a plate for Rusty, then went to wake him so he could eat.

Not long after dinner, Sharon gave Rusty some Tylenol PM and throat medicine before tucking him into bed for the night, with instructions to wake her if he needed anything. He was exhausted, and clearly feeling worse. Rusty woke in the middle of the night, feeling miserable. His face and ear were hurting, on top of the sore throat and headache. He also felt more congested. Going back to sleep in his current state seemed impossible. He knew he shouldn't have more Tylenol, but he could probably have some Advil. He also thought he remembered seeing some cold medicine somewhere, although he couldn't remember at the moment where Sharon kept the medicine.

Rusty got out of bed, but became dizzy. His head felt really heavy, and he wondered how high his temperature was. The thermometer was still on his nightstand, so he sat back down and took his temperature. It was 104. _Shit_. What now? Should he wake Sharon? No, he could take some Advil himself, and it would probably go down after that. Rusty left his room, intending to look for some medicine, but found himself going to Sharon's room. She had told him to wake her if he needed to, and he was too sick to worry about bothering her. Rusty crept to Sharon's side of the bed.

"Shar-"

Sharon's eyes flew open and she sat up, turning her lamp on in the process. "Rusty? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I feel really bad," Rusty admitted, sounding slightly panicked. Sharon pulled him down to her bed and held her hand to his forehead. "Oh, my...Let me find the thermometer..."

"It's in my room. My temperature is 104." No wonder he sounded panicked. Sharon wracked her brain, trying to remember instructions for high fevers from when Emily and Ricky were younger. He needed light, loose-fitting clothing, and just enough blankets for him to be comfortable. She got up and rummaged through her drawers until she found an old t-shirt of Jack's. She knew it would be too big for Rusty. "Take off your sweatshirt and pajama pants and put this on while I get some medicine. You can leave your underwear on." Rusty blushed. "Are you congested? You sound stuffy." Rusty nodded.

Sharon left the room, and Rusty changed clothes as quickly as his depleted energy would allow. Sharon took her time finding medicine, pouring a glass of Gatorade, getting a few blankets from the hall closet, and turning up the thermostat. When she returned, Rusty was wrapped up in her comforter and his clothes were on the floor. Sharon gently pried the comforter from Rusty's fingers and pushed it to the bottom of her bed.

"Sorry, honey, but this is too heavy. I won't let you be cold, though, I promise." Sharon straightened the sheet around Rusty and covered him with a couple of blankets. "Are you warm enough?"

Rusty shook his head shyly. "One more should be good." Sharon draped another blanket over him and gave him Advil, throat medicine, and some cold medicine.

"Does anything else hurt that didn't hurt earlier?"

Rusty nodded. "Ear."

Sharon plugged in a heating pad and held it to Rusty's ear, then retrieved a lukewarm cloth from the bathroom, and gently wiped his face. After a few minutes, she pulled the blankets back.

"I need to wipe your stomach," Sharon said, waiting a moment before lifting Rusty's t-shirt. She made sure to maintain eye contact with him as she ran the cloth over his stomach so he wouldn't feel self-conscious. After a few minutes, she wiped his arms down, covered him with the blankets again, and resumed wiping his face. Almost an hour later, his temperature was down to 103.2. It was still a little high, but since he had a doctor's appointment in a few hours, anyway, Sharon felt like his temperature was low enough to let him go back to sleep. She asked Rusty to finish his gatorade, then went to refill his glass.

"You can go back to sleep now," Sharon said softly, pulling Rusty close to her. She was taking advantage of his dazed state. "Wake me if you get cold. Or if you need anything." She lay his head against her shoulder, running her fingers through his hair and stroking his forehead until he fell asleep. She gently lay him down once he was deeply asleep, smoothed the blankets over him, unplugged the heating pad, and fell into an uneasy slumber.

The next morning, Sharon, Ricky, and Rusty went to the doctor's office. Ricky had tagged along, curious to see how Rusty and his mom interacted with one another. He also wanted to see if Rusty would volunteer anything about his past. Sharon settled Rusty in a chair before signing him in.

"We're going to have to wait about forty-five minutes," Sharon said apologetically when she returned.

"Great," Rusty mumbled. His temperature wasn't quite as high as it had been the night before, but he still felt pretty miserable. He was also embarrassed about waking up in Sharon's bed this morning. He had very little memory of how that had happened. Sharon hadn't seemed bothered, though. If anything, she seemed...Pleased? Weird.

Ricky watched curiously as Rusty leaned against the back of his chair, trying to get comfortable. Hell, even now, Ricky wouldn't hesitate to lean against his mom to get more comfortable. That was one of her functions as a mother. Sharon's hands were jittery and she was watching Rusty out of the corner of her eye, as though she was trying to decide whether to comfort Rusty. A few minutes later, her motherly instincts won out, and she put her arm around him.

"Come here, honey, you can lie on me. These chairs are hardly comfortable, and we're going to be here for a while." Ricky continued watching as Rusty hesitated, and Sharon gently pulled him to her. "Is that better?" Rusty nodded slowly against her shoulder. Sharon rubbed his back and brushed his hair back from his face, and he was soon sleeping heavily against Sharon. Oh, yes, the kid was _definitely_ putting on an act, and Sharon was blindly falling for it. Ricky turned away in disgust, unable to watch more.

When Rusty's name was finally called, Ricky stayed in the waiting room while Sharon woke Rusty and guided him to the nurse. When Dr. Sheridan entered the exam room, Sharon was standing beside the exam table, holding Rusty as he leaned against her.

"Oh, my...What's the problem today?" Dr. Sheridan asked. "Hi, Rusty, hi, Sharon, by the way."

"Hi, Dr. Sheridan," Sharon said, smiling. Rusty gave a half-hearted wave in greeting. "I picked Rusty up from school around lunchtime yesterday. He had a sore throat, headache, and his temperature was 101. He woke up at 4:00 this morning with a 104 degree fever, and he sounded congested and complained of ear pain. His temperature went down to 103.2 before he went back to sleep, and it was still 103 this morning."

Sharon stepped away from Rusty, and Dr. Sheridan did a quick exam. "You have another case of Tonsilltis, but this time the bacteria has spread to your right ear and sinuses, so you also have a sinus infection and ear infection. That's why your temperature got so high." She turned to Sharon. "How long has Rusty been living with you?"

"Almost four months."

"Had he been sick at all before the first time you brought him here in September?"

"No. Even before he lived with me, he said his only prior doctor visits had been for immunizations."

Dr. Sheridan turned back to Rusty. "So, obviously, you had never been officially diagnosed with Tonsillitis before last month, but can you recall ever feeling similarly ill in the last couple of years?"

Rusty hesitated.

"Tell the truth, honey. This is important. It will be okay, I promise," Sharon said.

Rusty nodded slowly. Maybe the doctor could do something to keep him from getting sick so much. He felt a renewed sense of hope.

"How often?" Dr. Sheridan asked kindly.

"Every month and a half or two months for the last two years. I always felt exactly like I did when I got sick in September, just for longer, since I never had any medicine."

Sharon was alarmed. Two _years_? Two years ago, Rusty had been in foster care. _Why_ hadn't his foster parents taken him to the doctor? There's no way they didn't notice a 103+ degree fever. Sharon felt even worse when she realized that he had lived on the streets for a year, getting sick every couple of months, without even a bed to crawl into.

"I'm afraid you're going to need a Tonsillectomy. I prefer to see more than two confirmed cases of Tonsillitis before making that recommendation, but it sounds like you've likely had it many times."

Sharon eagerly agreed. She couldn't stand the thought of Rusty continuing to get so sick every few weeks. "What do I need to do?" Sharon asked.

"The first thing to think about is scheduling. Rusty would likely need two weeks out of school. I don't want to put it off until next summer, though."

 _Damn it,_ Rusty thought. Making up his work from missing two days of school had been bad enough. It was going to take forever to make up two _weeks_ worth of work. Not to mention that surgery wasn't exactly cheap. Or painless.

"Do I have to?" Rusty asked meekly.

"Oh, honey. It will hurt for a little while, but it's better than getting sick all the time, isn't it?" Sharon answered softly. She turned to Dr. Sheridan. "How soon can we arrange it?"

"Christmas break, please," Rusty spoke up. I'll never catch up after missing two weeks of school."

"Well..."

"That's actually a good idea," Dr. Sheridan said. And, there's always the chance that he doesn't get sick again. I can go ahead and refer you to an ENT and get it scheduled. If he doesn't get sick again before the scheduled date, we'll just cancel it, and revisit the idea should he get Tonsillitis again after that."

"Are you sure you want to waste your Christmas vacation?" Sharon asked. Rusty nodded.

Dr. Sheridan gave Sharon prescriptions for an antibiotic and decongestant. "I'll be in touch about scheduling a tonsillectomy," she said, making a note on Rusty's chart. Sharon thanked her, and they left.

Once Rusty had eaten lunch and taken his medicine, Sharon tucked him into bed. She sat beside him and touched his forehead for the third time since they had gotten home, as if she thought the Tylenol had worked in the last five minutes. Rusty rolled over, and Sharon lay beside him, rubbing his back. Before long, they were both sleeping soundly.


	6. Chapter 6

Later on Friday afternoon, Sharon woke when she noticed that Rusty's breathing seemed to be off. He was still sleeping, but his knees were drawn up to his chest, and Sharon was sure he was feeling sick to his stomach. She gently shook his shoulder.

"Rusty? I'm sorry to wake you, but you look-". Rusty jumped up and ran to the bathroom before Sharon could finish her sentence. She followed closely behind, wetting a wash cloth and patting his back as he leaned over the toilet. "You're okay, honey. It will be over soon," Sharon soothed as she wiped his face. Once he was settled back in bed with a glass of ginger ale and a popsicle, Sharon sat on his bed and felt his forehead. He was still burning up.

"I'm sorry, honey. I meant to tell Dr. Sheridan that the antibiotic made you sick last time. She probably could have given you something else."

"It's fine. I could have told her, too." Sharon winced at how congested Rusty sounded. His voice sounded painful.

"Do you need to blow your nose?" Sharon asked, reaching for the tissues she had put beside his bed earlier.

"No...I feel like there's a brick in my nose."

Sharon left the room and returned shortly with saline she had bought at the pharmacy and a hot cloth. She sat beside Rusty and gently sprayed the saline in his nose, then held the cloth over his nose and cheeks. When the cloth was no longer warm enough to do any good, she wiped his nose and had him blow.

"That actually feels a little better."

"Glad to hear it," Sharon said, kissing his forehead. A little while later, Sharon gave Rusty his prescriptions and some Tylenol, then joined Ricky in the living room once Rusty was asleep.

"Mom, it's hot as hell in here," Ricky whined.

"Sorry, honey...Rusty's fever got pretty high last night-well, this morning-and I turned the thermostat up when I was trying to get his fever down, so he wouldn't need as many blankets to get warm. He's had chills since we got back from the doctor, so I haven't turned it back down. And 75 degrees is hardly _hot as hell."_

"Oh...So, what are we doing for dinner?"

"You can order in something, if you'd like. I'm just going to eat leftovers from last night, and Rusty doesn't have much of an appetite." Ricky scowled. He hadn't seen his mom in months, yet his entire visit had revolved around Rusty. He didn't seem sick enough to require all of his mom's attention, but he had managed to take it, anyway.

On Sunday morning, Sharon took Ricky to the airport. She debated talking to him about Rusty, as she had noticed some tension on Ricky's part over the weekend. She didn't want him to leave on a bad note, though. She would give him some time to think things through himself, now that he had spent time with Rusty in person, and talk to him about it later.

"Bye, honey. I love you," Sharon said, hugging Ricky before he got out of the car.

"Bye, Mom. Love you, too. I'm sorry I've been...In a weird mood this weekend."

"That's okay. I'm sorry I had to spend so much time with Rusty, but he's been pretty sick. We're still trying to find our balance, and it's hard to give him the care and comfort he needs without worrying about making him uncomfortable."

"I know. I'll see you at Christmas," Ricky said as he got out of the car.

 _December 2012_

On a Tuesday morning, two weeks before his tonsillectomy was scheduled, Rusty woke up with a sore throat and a headache. Determined to avoid a tonsillectomy, he got up to take some Tylenol and get in the shower. He had stashed some Tylenol in his desk for this purpose. He had survived Tonsillitis while living on the streets, so he should be able to fool Sharon until he was well. The Tylenol should have time to kick in before he went to the kitchen for breakfast. He stood up, and immediately got dizzy. He walked across the hall to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. There was no way Sharon wouldn't notice he was sick, so he didn't bother to take the Tylenol. It would be hard to explain to Sharon why he had some in his room already. The more he thought about it, the more he craved Sharon's gentle care. His resolve to appear to be well dissipated. Damn, he'd gotten soft.

Rusty went into the kitchen, where Sharon was sitting at the bar and sipping a cup of coffee. She looked up as he came in. "Morning, honey...Are you feeling all right?"

Rusty shook his head. "I don't feel good," he mumbled, shuffling over to Sharon. She reached up and felt his forehead.

"You're running a fever...Does your throat hurt?" Rusty nodded miserably. "Go back to bed, honey, and I'll bring you some medicine." Rusty climbed back under his covers, and Sharon brought him some breakfast, Gatorade, Tylenol, and throat medicine.

"Does anything else hurt?" Rusty shook his head. "Do you have a headache?" Sharon pressed. Rusty nodded. Do you feel congested, or does your ear hurt?" Rusty shook his head. "Okay. I'm going to run to work and get some things once you go back to sleep," Sharon said after Rusty had eaten. "Call me when you wake up if I'm not back yet."

Sharon returned to her condo at 9:30. She had informed Chief Taylor and Provenza that Rusty was having surgery and that she wouldn't be working from December 15, the day Rusty's tonsillectomy was scheduled, until after New Years Day, but would work as much as possible from home. She checked on Rusty, and he was still sleeping. He slept until 11:30, and Sharon gave him some lunch and more medicine. "I called the doctor's office as soon as it opened this morning, and they were able to fit you in this afternoon."

"Thanks," Rusty mumbled.

Later that afternoon, Sharon tucked Rusty back into bed after returning from the doctor's office and giving him his antibiotic and some Advil. Dr. Sheridan had set up a pre-op appointment with an ENT, and had prescribed a liquid antibiotic, saying that it should be easier on Rusty's stomach. Once Rusty was asleep, Sharon sat on his bed and worked on her computer as he slept beside her. A couple of hours later, he woke up, feeling nauseous.

"Oh, honey, do you feel like you're going to get sick?" Sharon asked, noticing his distress.

"I don't think so...My stomach just feels kind of weird." Rusty leaned against Sharon without her having to prompt him to do so. She rubbed his back and placed her hand on his forehead. Rusty still couldn't believe how gentle a touch to his face could be. Before living with Sharon, any touch to his face had been followed by an ice pack. Sharon's soothing touch calmed him, and he soon went back to sleep.

The morning of December 15, Sharon woke Rusty at 6:00 to get ready to go to the hospital. It was three days before school ended for Christmas break, but Sharon had arranged for Rusty to take his midterms early. She wanted him to feel as well as possible by Christmas. She packed a small bag for herself and Rusty while he was in the shower, just in case he ended up having to stay in the hospital overnight. Dr. Lewis, the ENT, had told her that an overnight stay after a tonsillectomy wasn't common, but given the number of times Rusty had had Tonsillitis, he predicted a more difficult-than-normal recovery, since he would have more tissue to remove. If an overnight stay were necessary, Sharon knew she wouldn't want to leave Rusty in the hospital to get clothes and things for them.

An hour and a half after Rusty was wheeled away for surgery, Sharon began to worry. Dr. Lewis had said the procedure would take about an hour, and that a nurse would let her know when Rusty was in recovery. Fifteen minutes later, a nurse named Sarah finally came in.

"Mrs. Beck?" Sharon was confused at first.

"Oh, I'm Sharon Raydor. Rusty is my foster son. Please, call me Sharon."

"I am so sorry. I didn't even look past the patient name on Rusty's chart. Anyway, Rusty did very well and his vitals are strong, but we're having some trouble waking him. We thought it might help if he heard your voice." Sharon sighed in relief, and followed Sarah to the recovery room.

Rusty became aware of his surroundings before he opened his eyes. Unfamiliar voices were calling his name, urging him to wake up. In Rusty's experience, waking up to strange voices was never a good thing. And why did his throat and ears hurt like hell? The voices stopped calling him, and Rusty tried to go back to sleep to escape his pain. A few minutes later, he felt a familiar hand stroking his forehead, and heard a familiar voice speaking to him.

"Rusty, honey, you need to wake up now. Can you do that for me?" Who-? _Sharon_. Of course. Oh, thank god. Rusty struggled to open his eyes. The memory of the surgery came back to him.

"Shar-"

"Shh, honey, don't talk. You're okay. The surgery went well, and you're going to be fine." She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"You're here..."

"Of course I'm here. I can't imagine being anywhere else."

"Hurts..."

"I know, baby. I wish I could make it stop. Now, don't talk."

Once Rusty was in his hospital room and in bed, Sharon replaced the bed pillow with Rusty's pillow from his bed at home, and covered him with a blanket from home. She had almost forgotten she'd brought them. Sarah gave Sharon a cup of ice chips and a spoon.

"Don't chew them," Sarah said to Rusty. "Let them melt, and then swallow. We'll try some water later." Sharon spooned out some ice chips and fed them to Rusty. A little while later, Sarah took Rusty's vitals and gave Sharon a cup of water. Sharon held the straw to Rusty's mouth, and he took a few sips. He grimaced as he swallowed. Sharon climbed in bed next to him and pulled him close to her. He lay against her shoulder, eyes drooping.

"Drink a little more water, and you can sleep for a little while." Sharon found herself napping along with Rusty, her 5:00 A.M. wakeup time catching up to her. A couple of hours later, Sharon felt Rusty fidgeting against her. "What's the-oh, my." Sharon looked around frantically for a basin, realizing that Rusty was about to be sick. Sarah seemed to appear out of nowhere and held a basin under his chin. Sharon patted his back, whispering softly to him. When he was finished, Sarah got a cold cloth for Sharon and went into the bathroom to rinse the basin. Sharon gently wiped his face, and had him take a few sips of water.

"I'm cold," Rusty mumbled, curling himself into Sharon. Sharon frowned. Sarah had helped him change into a sweatshirt and pajama pants once he had been brought to his room. He shouldn't be cold. She tightened the blanket around his shoulders and cradled him in her arms, trying to warm him up. She held her hand to his forehead, and was alarmed to find that he felt feverish.

"Sarah? I believe Rusty's running a fever," Sharon said worriedly, when the nurse returned with the clean basin a few moments later.

"Oh, that's normal...I do need to make sure it's not too high, though," she said, pulling a thermometer out of her pocket. She held it in Rusty's ear. "100.8. He'll probably have a fever for about a week. As long as it's under 102, there's no need to worry. The after-care instructions you'll receive before leaving here will explain that. And, the nausea is probably from the anesthesia," she said, anticipating Sharon's next question.

Later that afternoon, Rusty was still unable to hold down water and he had bleeding in his throat, so Dr. Lewis decided to keep him overnight. Dr. Lewis changed the pain medication in Rusty's IV, which helped the nausea, but he wanted the bleeding to stop before discharging Rusty. At 9:00 that night, Laura, the night shift nurse, came in to check Rusty's vitals and to help him to the bathroom before he went to sleep for the night. Sharon quickly changed into her pajamas while they were gone.

"Sharon, you've been here all day. Go home," Rusty said, when he saw her in her pajamas.

"No, honey. I'm not leaving you here by yourself. And don't talk." Laura left and returned with a cot for Sharon.

"All right, Rusty, if you need to go the bathroom during the night, don't try to get up by yourself. Press the call button. If it's urgent, there's a bedpan on the table beside your bed, and you can wake your mom if you need help." Rusty's face blushed a deep crimson. "Sorry, I know how embarrassed you teenaged boys get, but you needed to know that," Laura said, smiling at him. She turned to Sharon. I'll be in periodically, but press the call button if you need me." Sharon thanked her as she left, then climbed in Rusty's bed.

"I'm going to put the cot right next to your bed, so shake me if you wake up and need me, even if you just can't go back to sleep." Rusty nodded, leaning heavily against her shoulder. Sharon held him and rocked back and forth, humming softly. Rusty drifted off to sleep, comforted by Sharon's familiar scent and the soothing feeling of her soft hand on his forehead.


	7. Chapter 7

On Wednesday morning, Sharon woke at 7:30, when she heard Sarah come in to check Rusty's vitals. She went into the bathroom to change clothes and brush her teeth.

"Good morning, Sarah," Sharon greeted, once she was dressed.

"Good morning, Sharon...I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's okay. I was ready to get up, anyway." Sharon sat on Rusty's bed, brushing his bangs back and feeling his forehead. He didn't feel terribly warm. "Not bad," she murmured.

"His temperature is 100.5," Sarah spoke up. "His blood pressure looks good, too. If the bleeding in his throat has stopped, or even decreased a bit, he should be able to go home early this afternoon. Dr. Lewis will be here by noon to examine him."

"Thanks so much," Sharon said.

"You're welcome. I'll be back in a couple of hours, but please press the call button if you need me before then, or if he wakes up," Sarah said as she left. Sharon settled into a chair to work on her computer, periodically glancing over at Rusty. At 10:00, he still hadn't moved. He had been asleep for thirteen hours, even after sleeping for most of the day on Tuesday. Sharon leaned over Rusty and felt his forehead. Did he feel warmer than before? She kept her hand on his forehead for a few moments, trying to decide whether his temperature had risen. She was debating pressing the call button when Sarah walked in.

"Still sleeping?"

Sharon nodded. "He hasn't moved."

"That's normal," Sarah said, seeing how worried Sharon looked. "Between the anesthesia hangover and the pain medicine, most patients are knocked out for a while following surgery." Sharon watched as Sarah checked Rusty's blood pressure and temperature. "His temperature is 101, but that's to be expected. There's no need to worry." Sharon sighed in relief. "Dr. Lewis should be here in an hour or so. Press the call button if he wakes up," Sarah said, leaving the room.

Rusty finally started stirring a few minutes after 11:00. After pushing the call button, Sharon sat on his bed, running her fingers through his hair. "Hi, honey," she said softly, wanting him to know she was there. He opened his eyes slowly, and Sharon handed him a cup of water. Rusty hesitated.

"Um, I have to...uh..." Sharon's eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh, my, I guess you do. I've already pushed the call button, can you wait a few minutes for Sarah? I'll walk out into the hall if you need to use the bedpan."

"I can wait," Rusty muttered, his cheeks flushing even more than they already were. Sarah came in a couple of minutes later.

"Rusty, glad to see you're awake...I'm guessing a trip to the bathroom is in order." Rusty nodded, grateful not to have to voice his request again. When they returned a minute later, Sarah left to get Rusty something to eat, and Dr. Lewis entered the room. He examined Rusty, gave Sharon some instructions and warning signs to watch for, and gave her a prescription for pain medicine and a packet detailing what he had already told her.

"Now, Rusty, your tonsillectomy was more difficult than most that I perform, and you are at a greater risk of infection. I know you're not going to feel very well for a couple of weeks, but you should see gradual improvement every day. If, at any time, you notice that you feel worse than you did the day before, then you need to tell Sharon immediately. It's normal to experience a setback about a week after surgery, when the scabs in your throat start falling off, but you will still need to let Sharon know how you're feeling, so she'll know to monitor you more closely. Understood?" Rusty nodded. "All right, then, once you've eaten, we'll get you out of here."

On the way home, Sharon stopped to fill Rusty's prescription, and also bought a humidifier and some gummy vitamins. She had done a big shopping trip the day before his surgery, but there had been a humidifier in Rusty's hospital room, and, seeing how little of an appetite Rusty had, she thought vitamins would be a good idea until he was eating a little better.

Once they got home, Sharon tucked Rusty into bed and gave him a small bowl of ice cream.

"Not hungry," he muttered.

"I know, but you need to eat a little bit before you take your pain medicine."

"Don't need it."

"Yes, you do. Now, eat."

Once Rusty had eaten, Sharon fed him a spoonful of pain medicine, and another of liquid Ibuprofen.

"I'm not a child," Rusty whined. "Why can't I have pills?"

"Liquid is easier on your throat."

"It's disgusting."

Sharon noticed the signs of Rusty getting sleepy again, so she sat beside him, smiling as he leaned against her before she had a chance to position him herself. She ran her fingers across his warm forehead, humming softly as he fell asleep.

By Friday, Rusty was going stir-crazy. He was tired of being in bed, but he was too tired and in too much pain to do anything else. He had watched movies and slept for the last two days, with Sharon right beside him. Late Friday afternoon, Sharon got up while he was sleeping to decorate the Christmas tree and put up her other decorations. Rusty had put the tree up for her the week before, and she had meant to have it decorated before his surgery, but between getting her Christmas shopping finished and preparing to be out of work, she had run out of time. When Rusty woke up and she wasn't in his room, he waited a few minutes, then ventured into the living room, craving her presence.

"Hi, honey, how are you feeling?"

"Same," Rusty croaked, sinking into the couch. Sharon cringed at how painful his voice still sounded. She brought him a glass of Gatorade and a popsicle, then retrieved his pillow from his bed and a blanket. When he had finished the popsicle, she spread the blanket over him and tucked it around his shoulders, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. He was still feverish, but he didn't feel warm enough to require a temperature check. The Ibuprofen had been keeping his temperature down pretty well.

"You can turn the TV on," Sharon said, giving him the remote.

"Nah, I like the music." Piano music playing Christmas carols was coming from a CD player. For the first time in his life, Christmas music didn't depress Rusty. When he lived with his mom, she barely acknowledged Christmas. There was certainly never a tree or gifts. When he was in foster care, Cynthia would bring a couple of gifts donated by people in the community, but that was all there was to Christmas. It was the lack of love that bothered Rusty rather than the lack of gifts. When he lived on the streets, he would see families shopping and eating out together, talking and laughing. He always dreaded the Christmas decorations being put up downtown and Christmas music being played everywhere he went, and it always seemed to start earlier and earlier every year.

This year, obviously, was very different. Sharon had already given him so much, so Rusty was sure she wasn't getting him any Christmas gifts, but he honestly didn't care. Emily and Ricky were coming home, and there would be Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve and good food on Christmas Day. Although Sharon hadn't said "I love you" in words, Rusty knew, without a doubt, that she did. If cleaning up his vomit and wasting her own sick days at work to take care of him wasn't love, then he wasn't sure what was. Feeling loved was the only Christmas gift he needed, and he already had it. He only hoped she knew that he loved her, too.

Rusty lay on the couch, watching as Sharon finished decorating the tree and moved on to her other decorations. After dinner, he lay down in Sharon's lap, enjoying the decorations and the Christmas music that was still playing. Sharon ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying not being lonely in the days leading up to Christmas for the first time in several years.

A little while later, it was time for Rusty to have more medicine. During the day, she was giving it to him every four hours, even if that meant waking him. At night, she only gave it to him if he woke up, which he usually did, anyway. He had been sleeping for two to four hours at a time, with an hour or so of waking time in between, both day and night. Sharon had been sleeping in his bed at night, not wanting him to wake without her knowledge, and had involuntarily adopted his sleeping schedule, somewhat. She didn't sleep as much as he did during the day, but she had taken several naps with him, since her nighttime sleep was shorter and interrupted.

Sharon held her hand to Rusty's forehead. He felt a little warmer, but he still felt like his temperature was fairly low. "Let's get you in bed," Sharon said, gently shaking his shoulder. She guided him to the bathroom so he could get ready for bed, then got herself ready for bed. She got a fresh glass of Gatorade, fed Rusty his medicine, and took his temperature to make sure it was still low.

"You're the best mom," Rusty murmured, leaning into Sharon's open arms. Tears came to Sharon's eyes as she wrapped an arm around him and brushed his bangs back from his forehead.

"I love you, honey...You know that, right?"

Rusty nodded against her shoulder. "Love you, too," he said softly, drifting off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Emily and Ricky both arrived for Christmas the morning before Christmas Eve. Sharon had picked them up and returned to her condo before Rusty woke up. Sharon cooked a big breakfast, happy to have all three of her children under one roof. It was 10:30 when she finished cooking and was seated at the table with Emily and Ricky, and she was surprised Rusty wasn't awake yet. He was feeling a good bit better, and his temperature was almost normal. He now took Ibuprofen during the day for pain, and only took his pain medicine at night to help him sleep. Sharon was debating whether to wake Rusty when he shuffled in, still in his pajamas. Sharon stood up and walked over to him.

"Morning, honey," Sharon said, scratching his back. She held her other hand to his forehead, disappointed when she found that he was still feverish. He felt like his fever was low, and Sharon knew it was normal for it to last up to ten days, but she would worry much less once his temperature was normal. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Sharon studied him intently for a moment. He didn't _look_ like he felt any better. If anything, he looked a little worse. She decided to leave it alone for now, and retrieved the Ibuprofen and poured some into a spoon. Rusty allowed her to feed it to him, having given up on trying to convince her that he could administer it himself long ago.

"Hi, Rusty. I've heard a lot about you," Emily spoke up once Sharon was finished fussing over him.

"Hi, Emily. Nice to meet you. Hi, Ricky," Rusty said softly, slumping into a chair at the table, where Emily and Ricky were already eating. He was actually feeling worse than he had the day before, but he remembered the doctor saying that would probably happen about a week after surgery. He was tired, despite sleeping for twelve hours the night before, and his throat felt worse. Sharon hadn't stuffed the thermometer in his mouth, so his temperature must still be low, so there was no need to worry her.

Ricky politely returned the greeting as Sharon came to the table and put a plate of food in front of Rusty. Rusty cringed, wishing he had gotten his own plate before sitting down. He wanted to keep Sharon's doting to a minimum, at least in front of Ricky. Fat chance.

When everyone was finished eating, they started cleaning the kitchen. Sharon made Rusty stop and lie down, though. As she guided him to the couch, she realized she hadn't worked out sleeping arrangements. Usually, Emily slept with her and Ricky slept in what was now Rusty's room when they were home at the same time. The obvious solution was just to move Ricky to the couch, but she didn't want to be the one to make that decision. She could tell Emily and Ricky that they could work out who slept on the couch and who slept in her bed by themselves, but that was still pretty much leaving Ricky on the couch by default. She had talked to Ricky about Rusty the day before, and he had sounded fine about everything again, but she still worried. If Rusty had a setback from his surgery, and felt uncomfortable around Ricky, Sharon was afraid he wouldn't tell her if he started feeling worse.

Later that afternoon, the new family of four crammed themselves on the couch with a bowl of popcorn to watch a Christmas movie. Sharon had wanted _It's a Wonderful Life_ , but Emily and Ricky outvoted her with _Home Alone_. Rusty had never seen either movie, so he didn't participate in the discussion. He doubted he would be awake for much of the movie, anyway. About thirty minutes into the movie, Emily noticed how drowsy Rusty was, so she moved to the floor to give him more room to lie down. He wanted to lie against Sharon, which, for some reason, always made him feel better, but he didn't want to alert her to the fact that he was feeling worse. He made himself more comfortable and fell asleep almost immediately. Sharon was engrossed in the movie by then and didn't notice. Emily glanced at Rusty periodically. He didn't look like he was feeling well at all. Her mom had said that his fever had been low for the last couple of days, but his cheeks looked more flushed than they had that morning. He was shivering, so she got a blanket from the hall closet and spread it over him. Once the movie was over and Sharon and Ricky were starting to discuss what to do next, Emily gingerly felt Rusty's forehead. She had zero experience with sick children, but she didn't think his fever would be considered "low."

"Mom? Is it bad if Rusty's fever goes up?" Emily asked, interrupting Sharon and Ricky.

"As long as it's under 102, he's okay. His temperature has been close to normal today, though." Sharon had taken Rusty's temperature after lunch even though he still didn't feel too warm, and it had been 99.1.

"Well, I know I don't have the forehead/temperature talent that you have, but he feels warmer than 'close to normal.'"

Sharon knelt beside the couch and placed her hand on Rusty's forehead. Emily was right, his temperature had definitely gone up. Trying to remain calm, Sharon got the thermometer and Ibuprofen before gently waking Rusty.

"Are you feeling okay?" Sharon asked, brushing Rusty's bangs back from his face as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Fine."

"Are you feeling worse than you did yesterday?" Sharon pressed.

"No...Yeah," Rusty croaked, realizing that Sharon already knew the answer to her question. His throat hurt almost as much as it had the day after the surgery, and he felt achy again, so he knew his temperature had risen. Sharon held the thermometer under his tongue. "101.4. Rusty. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this bad?"

Rusty shrugged. "Dr. Lewis said this was normal a week after surgery."

"He also said you would still need to tell me if you started feeling worse. I'll need to monitor your temperature more closely, and you sound like you could use a pain pill. Ricky, will you please get him a glass of Gatorade while I find his medicine?" Rusty didn't miss the scowl on Ricky's face as he obeyed Sharon. Neither did Emily, and she shot him a Look.

"I'm sorry..." Rusty murmured after Sharon gave him some Ibuprofen and pain medicine.

"It's okay, honey. I'm just worried." Sharon situated Rusty's head in her lap and stroked his hair, putting him to sleep.

"Poor kid," Emily said sympathetically.

"I know. He's had a rough time. He doesn't complain, so it's hard to know how to help him. Or whether I'm helping him at all." Sharon straightened the blanket over Rusty.

"He looks comfortable now," Emily observed.

"I hope so," Sharon murmured.

"What's for dinner, Mom?" Ricky asked, wanting to change the subject. It was still weird to see her taking care of another kid. Also, she had promised to cook dinner, and it was already almost 6:00.

"I'm sorry, I know I promised to cook, but do you guys mind ordering in tonight? I didn't exactly factor this into my day," Sharon said, nodding at Rusty.

"Sure, Mom. Rusty needs you," Emily said. She elbowed Ricky. God, her elbows were sharp.

"Oh, yeah, Mom. Fine." Why his mom didn't think Rusty was capable of sleeping without her with him was a mystery to Ricky, but whatever.

After dinner, everyone changed into their pajamas and Sharon got her wish of watching _It's a Wonderful Life_. Rusty was asleep against her shoulder less than five minutes into the movie.

"I'm going to need a beer or two to get through this," Ricky grumbled, getting up from his chair to get a Blue Moon from the refrigerator.

"Good call," Emily said, and also got up. She returned with two glasses of wine, handing one of them to Sharon as she sat back down on the couch. By the time the movie was over, Sharon had tears streaming down her cheeks, and Ricky and Emily were teasing her mercilessly.

"At least I have one child who doesn't make fun of me," Sharon said, her fingers still gliding through Rusty's hair.

"Yeah, because he's sleeping," Emily retorted. "Sorry, Mom, but this movie is cheesy."

"What are sleeping arrangements?" Ricky asked, annoyed that his mom had referred to this stray kid as her child. Sharon looked down at Rusty, still sleeping on her shoulder. Although she hated that he was feeling so sick, the setback had at least solved a problem for her.

"Since Rusty's feeling so bad, he can sleep in my bed. The two of you can work out who gets his room and who gets the couch."

"Rusty's already asleep. Just leave him on the couch," Ricky said, knowing Emily had enough blackmail on him to sentence him to the couch for the rest of his life.

"Yes, but I doubt he will sleep all night, and he probably won't wake me unless something is really wrong." Sharon saw that Ricky was about to protest. "And, believe it or not, being woken by Rusty is a lot more pleasant than being woken because I've rolled over into a cold pile of _vomit_ ," she said, fixing Ricky with a Look.

"I'm still mad that I was already in college when that happened," Emily said, laughing.

"Do you have to bring that up every chance you get?! And I'd rather Rusty not know about that, if you don't mind." Ricky said, face reddening.

"Yes, I do. And, he already knows," Sharon said.

" _What?!_ Do you have to tell _everyone_ about that? How did that even come up in conversation? And I was sick!"

"Too sick to wake me and warn me that there was vomit in my bed, yet well enough to walk back to your own bed? Nice try. And, the first time Rusty had Tonsillitis, the antibiotics made him sick. One night, he didn't wake up in time to get to the bathroom before he started throwing up, and he got a little in his bed. He was so embarrassed and didn't want me to change his sheets for him, so I had to think of something to make him feel better about it. Of course, that was the first thing that came to mind."

"Okay, okay."

"All right, little brother, the couch is all yours," Emily said, stifling a yawn. Her flight had left New York early this morning, and she was tired and jet-lagged.

"I said for you two to _work it out_ ," Sharon chided.

"Don't worry, Mom. We did. _Right,_ Ricky?" Ricky blushed, nodding his head.

"Goodnight, you guys," Emily said, walking back to Rusty's room.

"Goodnight, honey. Sleep well. Love you," Sharon said, kissing her forehead.

"Love you."

"'Night," Ricky muttered.

By this time, Rusty was starting to stir. His pain medicine had worn off, and his throat hurt like hell.

"How are you feeling?" Sharon asked, feeling his forehead. He still felt too warm.

"Same." Sharon took his temperature before giving him some medicine. His fever was still under 102, but not by much. The Ibuprofen should bring it down some, though. She led Rusty to her room and tucked him into bed. Once he was asleep, she got some sheets and a pillow out of the hall closet and went to make up the couch for Ricky.

"Goodnight, honey. Love you," Sharon said, once she was finished.

"'Night, Mom. Love you, too."


	9. Chapter 9

Rusty woke at 1:00 A.M., unsure of whether to wake Sharon. The first four nights he had been home, she had slept in his bed, and he had been good about waking her when he woke up during the night. He had hesitated to do so at first, but Sharon explained that she would sleep better if he promised to wake her up any time he did, otherwise, she wouldn't sleep well from worrying about not waking up. Those nights had actually been kind of fun. When Rusty woke up, it was usually a couple of hours before he was sleepy again, so he and Sharon often found themselves watching movies in the middle of the night, and taking long naps in the middle of the day. Now that Emily and Ricky were here, though, Sharon wouldn't want to nap the next day. It was also Christmas Eve, and she would have things she had to do.

"How are you feeling? And why didn't you wake me?" Rusty jumped at the sound of Sharon's voice.

"Same. And I just now woke up."

Sharon felt his forehead. "You still feel pretty warm," she said, frowning. She got the thermometer from her nightstand and held it under his tongue. "101.6. I can't give you more medicine for another hour. Want to watch a movie?"

Rusty nodded. "Would you mind watching _Home Alone_ again? I was asleep for most of it, but it looked like it would be funny."

"Of course. You can never watch _Home Alone_ too many times." Sharon got up to retrieve the movie and a glass of Gatorade for Rusty. Between her favorite Christmas movies and those of Ricky and Emily, she owned just about every Christmas movie known to man. She couldn't believe Rusty had never seen _Home Alone._ It was the quintessential kids' Christmas movie. But, this was yet another reminder of the things that Rusty had gone without as a child.

Rusty leaned against Sharon as they watched the movie. An hour into it, she gave him his pain medicine and Ibuprofen. By the time the movie was over, the pain medicine was taking effect, and Rusty was getting drowsy. Sharon took his temperature again, and it was down to 101. Sharon scratched Rusty's back until he was asleep, then pulled him close to her, wrapping an arm around him as she fell asleep.

At 10:00 on Christmas Eve morning, Sharon and Rusty were both asleep. Rusty had woken again at 5:30, and they had watched half of _Home Alone 2_ before he went back to sleep. Emily peeked in her mom's room, surprised that she was still asleep. When she saw how Sharon and Rusty were curled up together, with Sharon's arm around him, she realized Rusty must have had a rough night.

"Is Mom _still_ sleeping?" Ricky whined as Emily entered the kitchen.

"Rusty looks like he had a rough night. She was probably up a few times with him during the night."

"My god, he had his tonsils out. It happens every day. Mom's acting like he's dying or something. She should take a break."

"Why? So she can cook breakfast for you? Get over yourself. What the hell is your problem, anyway? You've been pouting since we got here."

"Is it not _weird_ to see Mom taking care of another kid?"

"Is _that_ what this is about? We're both adults, Ricky. It's not like she's neglecting us or something. Rusty's feeling pretty sick, and he needs Mom. She would be doing the same things for you if you were sick, even now. And putting up with a lot more whining, for sure."

"We could be skiing in Park City right now. But, _no,_ Rusty had to have his tonsils out. I barely got any time with Mom last time I was here because he was sick, and she wouldn't leave his side for two seconds."

Emily rolled her eyes. "You are being a brat. And don't you dare say anything about Park City in front of Rusty. He probably has no idea we usually go there for Christmas. You're acting like he's been getting sick on purpose. He's had a rough life, you could be a little nicer to him."

"I know...It's just weird."

"Get over it. He probably didn't tell Mom how bad he was feeling yesterday because of you. What if something had been really wrong with him, and Mom didn't know?"

"I know, I know. I'll try."

Rusty woke at 11:00, and Sharon also woke when she felt him moving. Her hand went straight to his forehead. He still felt hot, but not any hotter than the night before. "Are you feeling any better?" He nodded. "You are not."

"Then why did you ask?" Rusty grumbled.

"Habit." Sharon took his temperature and gave him his medicine. "I'll be right back with some breakfast."

"I'll lie down on the couch. You should be with Emily and Ricky."

"No, honey. Your temperature is hovering too close to 102. You are staying in bed today. Emily and Ricky understand." The look on Rusty's face made Sharon wonder if she was due for another little chat with Ricky. Once Rusty had eaten, taken his medicine, and was sleeping again, Sharon went to find Emily and Ricky. They were playing Poker at the dining room table.

"Ricky..."

"Don't worry, Mom," Emily interrupted. "I've already told him to stop being a brat."

" _Thank_ _you_ ," Sharon said, giving Ricky a stern look. She turned on some Christmas music, then joined them at the table. "I know my sweet children aren't _gambling_ ," she scolded mockingly.

"Yeah. With bobby pins. But mostly bragging rights, because I better be getting these back. You want in?" Emily answered.

"Why not? I'll try not to embarrass the two of you too badly."

Two hours later, Sharon was the clear winner, and Emily and Ricky were groaning in disgust. Sharon got up to check on Rusty for what seemed to be the thousandth time in the last two hours to Ricky. Rusty was starting to wake up, so she brought him some lunch and a glass of Gatorade.

"Want to finish _Home Alone 2?"_ Sharon asked.

Rusty nodded. "I'll be fine in here by myself, though. Or let me move to the couch."

"Emily and Ricky are fine. They can come in here if they want to, anyway." Sharon got up to resume the movie, and settled back in bed beside Rusty.

"Hey, Mom? I'm going to do some last-minute shopping. Mind if I take your car?" Ricky asked from the doorway of Sharon's room.

"Sure, honey." With Ricky gone, Rusty felt less guilty about monopolizing Sharon's time. He lay down in her lap to watch the movie. Sharon held her hand to his forehead. He didn't feel any warmer, so she decided to wait a while before checking his temperature again. Emily came in a few minutes later and climbed in bed with them.

"Ooh, can we start this from the beginning? I haven't seen this one in forever." Without waiting for an answer, Emily got up and restarted the movie.

Once the movie was over, it was time for Rusty to take more medicine. Soon after that, he was sleeping again. Sharon got up to start preparing to cook dinner. She didn't know how long Rusty would sleep, and she didn't want to order take-out on Christmas Eve.

By 4:00, Sharon almost had dinner ready to put in the oven, and Ricky had returned. Sharon was exhausted. Her shortened sleep from the night before was catching up with her.

"You look beat, Mom," Emily observed. "Go lie down for a while. I can finish this."

"Thanks, honey. It will only take about an hour to cook, so just put it in the refrigerator for a while when you're done." Sharon went to her room, crawled in bed beside Rusty, and fell asleep almost instantly.

"That kid's wearing Mom out."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Ricky. I'm sure we've both worn her out a time or two. And his name is Rusty."

Sharon woke a little after 7:00, and stumbled into the kitchen. Ricky was watching TV in the living room, beer in hand, and Emily was pulling dinner out of the oven. Between her apron and the glass of wine sitting on the counter, Emily looked like a younger version of Sharon.

"Thanks, Emily."

Emily looked up at the sound of her mom's voice. "Hi, Mom. Glass of wine?"

"Please." Emily poured another glass of wine and handed it to Sharon.

"Is Rusty still sleeping?"

"Yes. If you guys don't mind, I'd like to wait a little bit before we eat dinner and see if he wakes up. I hope he feels like coming to the table."

Sharon gently woke Rusty at 7:30, and asked if he felt like coming to the table. He didn't, but he didn't want Sharon to have to bring him another meal in bed, so he said yes. He had a bad headache that hadn't been there before, and he felt more achy than he had been. Sharon gave him his medicine and he slowly followed her to the dining room.

"Well, Mom, maybe you won't fall asleep during Midnight Mass tonight after sleeping all day," Ricky teased.

"That happened _once_. And, sorry, honey, but I'm not going. You and Emily can go if you want to."

"But, Mom, we always go to Mass! We-ow!" Emily had kicked Ricky under the table.

" _Stop_ _it_ ," she hissed. Emily knew he didn't care about going to Mass in general, he just cared that Rusty was the reason that Sharon was missing it.

"You should go, Sharon. I'll be sleeping, anyway," Rusty spoke up.

"No, honey. We can miss it this one time. I would rather stay here, anyway." Sharon said, cupping his chin with her hand, and studying his face. He looked like he felt even worse, somehow.

After dinner, Rusty staggered back to bed, with Sharon following closely behind him. She tucked him in and put her hand on his forehead. He didn't feel much warmer than he had earlier, but she took his temperature to make sure it was still under 102. She got a reading of 101.8. After noticing the empty glass on the nightstand, Sharon took it to the kitchen to refill it with gatorade. When she returned, she sat on her bed beside Rusty.

"Are you feeling worse?" Sharon asked, smoothing her hand over his forehead. Rusty shook his head, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine. Headache," he murmured.

"For how long?" Sharon asked, starting to worry.

"Just since I woke up right before dinner."

"You should have told me, honey," Sharon said, pulling his head into her lap. "I need to know if you have any new symptoms."

"I'm so-"

"Shh, it's okay. I'm just worried," Sharon said, massaging his forehead and temples with her cool hands.

"That feels good," Rusty murmured, snuggling more closely against her. Sharon sat with him, thinking about the next morning. She was worried about how unwell Rusty was feeling, but she was starting to get excited about the Christmas gifts she had bought for him. She hadn't felt this excited about Christmas morning since her children were small. That reminded her of something. Her children had always been allowed to open one gift on Christmas Eve, which was their matching Christmas pajama pants. Even though Emily and Ricky were adults, none of them had wanted to give up the tradition.

"Rusty! You can't go to sleep yet. I'll be right back." She got up to get the gifts from under the tree. Usually, she wrapped about half of Emily and Ricky's Christmas gifts and set out the others, as they were "from Santa," but this year the "Santa" gifts outnumbered the wrapped gifts. She had wrapped as many gifts as she could before Rusty's surgery, and had wrapped an odd one here and there while he was sleeping during the last week, but many of the gifts she had bought remained in her closet. Emily and Ricky were too old to snoop, and that idea clearly hadn't even occurred to Rusty, so she didn't have to get creative with hiding them.

Sharon walked into the living room, where Emily and Ricky were watching _Christmas_ _Vacation_. She dug the gifts out from under the tree. "Will you guys come to my room for a minute? Rusty's about to fall asleep, but I want you to open your Christmas pajamas before he's sleeping again. I don't know when he'll wake up again."

Ricky paused the movie, and they followed Sharon to her room and piled on her bed. Rusty was utterly confused as Sharon distributed the gifts. He had opened maybe four gifts in his life, all of which had been donated Christmas gifts when he was with other foster parents. The ones who neglected and abused him. Emily and Ricky tore into theirs, even though they already knew what it was.

"Go ahead, honey. Open it," Sharon prompted Rusty.

"Sharon, you've already given me too much. I-"

" _Now_."

"You don't want to ignore that tone," Emily advised.

"I know. I'm already a little too familiar with that tone," Rusty answered.

"Yeah, it's pretty frightening," Ricky chimed in.

"I only use 'that tone' when certain children of mine don't listen to me the _first_ time," Sharon chided.

"Yeah, whatever, Mom."

Ricky watched as Rusty slowly and carefully opened the gift, as though he wanted to enjoy opening it as long as he could. Ricky realized that he had probably never had a stack of gifts to open on Christmas morning or on his birthday. The reality of Rusty's past was starting to hit Ricky pretty hard.

Rusty had tears in his eyes as he pulled the pajama pants out of the box, realizing that this must be a Christmas Eve tradition. A tradition that now included him.

"Thanks, Sharon. I love this. And thank you guys for letting me intrude on your tradition," he said, looking at Emily and Ricky.

"You're not intruding," Ricky said. "Hell, the more, the merrier." No one commented on Ricky's change of attitude, although they definitely noticed it.

"Let's go change into our pajamas," Emily said.

Rusty decided to take a shower before changing into his pajamas. When he went back into Sharon's room, Emily and Sharon were sitting up in the bed, and Ricky was starting _Christmas_ _Vacation_ on the TV.

"Come here, honey," Sharon said, patting her lap. Rusty lay in front of Emily, with his head in Sharon's lap. "Does your head still hurt?" Sharon asked.

Rusty nodded. "Not as bad." Once the movie was started, Ricky climbed in bed on the other side of Sharon. Emily looked down at her sick brother, wishing she could make him feel better. She remembered her mom rubbing her back when she was sick, and how good it always felt. She had probably done the same for Rusty before, but now her hands were occupied with stroking his forehead, trying to soothe his headache. Emily found herself rubbing Rusty's back as she watched the movie, and, as funny as the movie was, Rusty didn't stand a chance of staying awake. He drifted off to sleep, content with his new family.


	10. Chapter 10

Later on Christmas Eve night, Sharon decided to wrap a few more of Rusty's Christmas presents. She poured a glass of wine, turned on some Christmas music, and settled herself on the floor. She wasn't worried about Rusty waking up. He had been unconscious when they finished watching the movie. Emily and Ricky did some last-minute wrapping of their own, then came to help Sharon.

"I know I went a little overboard..." Sharon began apologetically, eyeing the bagfuls of Rusty's gifts. A lot of it was actually stuff he needed, but just didn't need right away, so she had held off until Christmas to get it. She had asked Tao, who had a teenaged son, and Buzz, who spent more time with Rusty than the other squad members, for suggestions for the other gifts.

"Mom, please. We're in our twenties. If you go overboard for anyone, it's for us. Not a teenager who has never had a real Christmas," Emily said.

"Yeah, Mom...Your twenty-something son and almost thirty-year-old daughter are just fine," Ricky commented, hoping to get a rise out of Emily.

" _Shut up,"_ Emily hissed, throwing a tape dispenser at Ricky.

"Fight all you want, but if you guys wake Rusty, he's your responsibility tonight," Sharon said, rubbing her eyes. She couldn't decide if she was kidding or not. She was exhausted.

"Shouldn't he be better by now? He still seems miserable," Emily said.

"Yes...His ENT said a setback was common after about a week, because the scabs in his throat fall off. I would have scheduled it a little better if I had known that before the day of the surgery. He was feeling a lot better two days ago. I don't think it should be this bad, though. He seems worse than he did right after surgery."

Emily winced in sympathy. "I can't imagine."

"I'm supposed to call his doctor if he still has a fever after tomorrow, which I'm afraid he will. It hasn't gone down at all since yesterday. I hope he's at least not still miserable tomorrow."

"Yeah, that sucks," Ricky said sincerely.

It was 10:30 by then, and Sharon couldn't hold her eyes open much longer. She put Rusty's newly-wrapped gifts under the tree, and arranged his non-wrapped gifts on the floor near the tree. She could set out Emily's and Ricky's gifts early in the morning. The beauty of having older children was giving fewer, smaller, although more expensive, gifts. Sharon certainly didn't miss the sleepless Christmas Eve nights of assembling toys with complicated parts. Those Christmases in Park City, Jack was either absent or drunk. She would wait until her parents went to bed before putting everything together, so they wouldn't feel like they had to stay up and help her. And to avoid calling attention to her failed marriage.

"Goodnight, you guys. I love you," Sharon said, kissing each child on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Mom. Love you," Emily and Ricky both answered.

Sharon quickly dressed for bed before climbing in beside Rusty. He was still sleeping, but he had a pained expression on his face. Sharon smoothed her hand over his forehead, frustrated to find that his fever hadn't budged. He couldn't have any medicine until 11:30, and she briefly considered setting her alarm to wake up then and give him some. He would probably wake on his own soon after that, anyway, if not before, so she decided against it. Sharon lay down and wrapped her arm securely around Rusty, so she would be sure to wake up when he did.

Emily woke at 5:00 on Christmas morning to the sound of someone getting sick across the hall in the bathroom. Her first thought was that Ricky must have had too much beer the night before, but she only remembered him drinking two or three bottles. She knew Sharon hadn't overdone it with the wine. Although she drank it pretty frequently, she was sparing with her servings. Whoever was in the bathroom was legitimately sick.

Emily stumbled across the hall and found Rusty on the floor, leaning over the toilet. He was struggling to hold himself up. Her heart ached for him. She couldn't imagine how horrible he had to be feeling. She wet a cloth with cold water from the sink and crouched beside Rusty to pat his back and wipe his face, as she had seen her mom do countless times when she and Ricky were sick.

Emily's stomach turned as Rusty continued throwing up, and she feared that she would soon be joining him. She had never been able to take the smell of vomit. She couldn't bring herself to leave Rusty though, not even just long enough to get her mom. Sharon was used to vomiting children, but Emily definitely was not. Yeah, the whole 'marriage-and-children' thing could definitely wait a few more years.

Emily couldn't believe Sharon was sleeping through this. The door between the bathroom and her bedroom was open, the bathroom light was on, and her bed was just on the other side of the wall. Sharon seemed to have a sixth sense about knowing when her children were sick. Emily remembered a couple of instances of throwing up in the middle of the night when she was younger, and her mom's bedroom was much further away from Emily's bathroom, yet, she still somehow woke up and came to Emily's aid. Sharon really was exhausted. Emily was considering calling out to her, gagging and not able to take much more, when Ricky came in, needing to use the bathroom.

"What the-"

"Oh, thank god. Get Mom. Please," Emily whispered.

Ricky entered Sharon's room from the bathroom. "Mom...Mom...MOM."

Sharon jerked awake. "What?! What is it? Are you okay?" She squinted up at Ricky.

"I'm fine. Rusty's the one blowing chunks," Ricky said, nodding toward the bathroom.

Sharon gave him a Look. "Given your expertise on the subject, it seems like you could come up with a less disgusting term for it."

"Barely awake, and already taking jabs? Go relieve Emily before you have two vomiting children."

Sharon walked into the bathroom and knelt beside Rusty as Emily gratefully passed the cloth to her. She looked positively green, and her eyes were watery.

"Thanks, honey...Are you okay?" Sharon asked, patting Rusty's back with one hand and putting her other hand on Emily's cheek. She was starting to worry that Emily had picked up a stomach virus on the plane and passed it to Rusty.

"Not if I don't get out of here," Emily said, standing up and rushing out of the room, grateful that her mom had taken charge.

"Wuss," Ricky called after her, following her into the hall.

"One of you please bring me a glass of water and put a glass of ginger ale in my room," Sharon called out.

Sharon rolled her eyes at Emily's weak stomach and turned back to Rusty, patting his back and wiping his face. He was oblivious to his surroundings, having assumed it was Sharon behind him the whole time. By the time Ricky returned with a glass of water, Rusty's stomach was finally calming down. He leaned against Sharon, exhausted. She held him and rocked for a few moments, then decided to put him back to bed.

"Rinse your mouth out," Sharon said softly, holding the glass up to Rusty's mouth. She held him back over the toilet so he could rinse a couple of times, then flushed it. After he had taken a few sips of water, she and Ricky helped him off of the floor.

"Thanks, honey," Sharon said to Ricky. She guided Rusty back to her bed and gave him his medicine. He sat on the edge of her bed and took a few sips of ginger ale while Sharon went to the kitchen to look for his discharge papers from the hospital. He went to the bathroom after he saw Ricky walking down the hall and got back in bed. His throat was killing him even more after throwing up. Sharon returned a few minutes later with the papers.

"Why do you need those?" Rusty croaked, as Sharon got in bed. He leaned against her shoulder as she sifted through the papers.

"I'm worried that you've been sick to your stomach. These only address nausea in the first couple of days after surgery, when it's usually from the anesthesia or pain medicine. They don't say anything about it for later in the recovery, though."

"Then it's not a big deal," Rusty said sleepily. Sharon wasn't as quick as Rusty to brush it off, but it wasn't listed as a warning sign for infection or a reason to call the doctor, so she fluffed his pillow and tucked him into bed. She held her hand to his forehead as his eyes were beginning to close, then grabbed the thermometer from her nightstand.

"Sorry, honey, I need to take your temperature," Sharon whispered, slipping the thermometer into his mouth. His temperature was 101.6. Ricky had already been asleep again by the time she found the discharge papers, so she got up to quickly set out his and Emily's unwrapped Christmas gifts. When she got back in bed and lay down, Rusty pressed into her side.

"Cold..." Rusty muttered. Sharon tightened the covers around him, turned on her side, and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him closer to her. She ran her fingers through his hair with her free hand as he fell asleep, hoping he would miraculously feel better in the next few hours.


	11. Chapter 11

Sharon woke at 8:00 Christmas morning to the sound of Emily and Ricky making breakfast and the smell of coffee. "Wake up, Rusty, it's Christmas!" She said excitedly, shaking his shoulder. She got up, slipped into her robe, and joined Emily and Ricky in the kitchen. Rusty groaned as he sat up. He felt even worse than he had the day before. His throat was unbearable, and he had a bad headache. He didn't want to call attention to it and ruin everyone's Christmas even more than he already had, so he went to the kitchen and sat at the table, trying to appear alert.

When breakfast was over, Sharon was ready to herd everyone into the living room to open presents when she noticed how flushed Rusty looked. With her shortage of sleep and excitement about Christmas, she had temporarily forgotten that he was still quite sick. This was the most miserable she had seen him look yet. She walked over to him and gently pressed her hand to his forehead. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt how warm he was. She dashed to her room for the thermometer, fairly certain that she was going to get a reading over 102. Sharon returned to the table, put an arm around Rusty, and held the thermometer under his tongue. He leaned weakly against her as they waited for the beep.

"102.8...Oh, no."

"Sorry..." Rusty murmured, burying his face into Sharon's side.

"It's not your fault, honey. You're going to be fine." Sharon cradled Rusty against her for a few moments, wondering what to do. She hated to bother the on-call doctor in Dr. Lewis's office on Christmas morning, but she also didn't want to drag Rusty to the ER if it wasn't necessary. If the doctor thought Rusty had an infection, she hoped he would just call in an antibiotic. Sharon put her hand under Rusty's chin and studied his face. "Is anything besides your throat bothering you? How's your stomach feeling?"

"Stomach's fine...Bad headache."

"Okay..." Sharon tried to keep the panic out of her voice. She went to her room for his medicine. "I'll take your temperature again after the Ibuprofen has had time to work, and then I'll call the on-call doctor. Let's get you back into bed." She refilled her mimosa and led Rusty back to her room, ignoring his protests.

"It's freezing in here," Rusty complained, as they got in bed. Sharon pulled the covers over him and wrapped him tightly in her arms, rocking back and forth. Once he was almost asleep, she settled his head in her lap and helped him stretch out. She kneaded his forehead with her cool hands, trying to relieve his headache.

Emily and Ricky cleaned the kitchen and went back to Sharon's room. "Mom, let's just wait until Rusty's feeling a little better to open presents and cook and stuff," Emily said, climbing onto Sharon's bed and situating herself behind Rusty. She unconsciously started rubbing his back.

"No-" Rusty started to say.

"It's okay. Really. We're not leaving until New Years Day, and we're in no rush for Christmas to be over, anyway," Ricky interrupted. "And we haven't peeked at our presents yet, either," he said to Sharon.

"Thanks, you guys," Sharon answered.

Forty-five minutes later, Rusty was sleeping soundly in Sharon's lap, and Emily, Ricky, and Sharon were talking about the trip to Park City Sharon had arranged for a long weekend in January, since they couldn't go for Christmas. All of Sharon's siblings and parents were coming, too, and they were planning a delayed celebration of Christmas. Sharon checked her watch, and realized she should check Rusty's temperature and call the doctor. He woke briefly as Sharon slipped the thermometer into his mouth, but was sleeping again before it beeped. His temperature had only gone down to 102.3. Sharon called Dr. Lewis's office and listened to the after-hours message, choosing options that got her call redirected to the on-call doctor.

The doctor was fairly certain that Rusty had an infection, so he called in an antibiotic, and instructed Sharon to bring him to their office the next morning if he hadn't improved, or if the nausea continued. Sharon eased herself out from under Rusty and lay him down so she could get dressed and go get the medicine. When she returned half an hour later, Emily was reading on her phone, still rubbing Rusty's back, and Ricky was sprawled out, taking a nap.

"Hi, honey," Sharon said softly, kissing the side of Emily's head. She gently woke Rusty, fed him a spoonful of the antibiotic, and made him drink a few sips of Gatorade. He went right back to sleep, not even bothering to ask what he was taking.

At 5:00 on Christmas afternoon, everyone was still piled in Sharon's bed, but now Emily was sleeping, and Ricky was playing around on his computer. Sharon had been reading and flipping back and forth between a couple of Christmas movies on TV, while Rusty slept in her lap, only waking when she made him take medicine or eat lunch. Sharon got up to cook dinner. The big dinner she had planned was going to have to wait, but she could cook a smaller meal in no time.

Once dinner was in the oven, Sharon went back to her room. Emily and Rusty were both starting to stir. Sharon climbed over Ricky to the spot on her bed where she had spent most of the afternoon. She brushed Rusty's bangs back from his forehead as he opened his eyes, relieved that he felt less feverish.

"How are you feeling?" Sharon asked, resting her hand on Rusty's forehead.

"A little better...ugh, my stomach," Rusty moaned. Sharon was alarmed before realizing it was probably the antibiotic.

"I'm sorry, honey," Sharon said, helping Rusty sit up and lean against her. "I hope it's just the antibiotic...Are you going to be sick?"

"I don't think so, just nauseous...What antibiotic?"

"The on-call doctor called it in for you this morning. He was pretty sure you have an infection," Sharon explained, rubbing his back. Her other hand found its way back to his forehead. "It feels like your fever's gone down a bit. I'll wait until your stomach calms down before I take your temperature, though." Rusty nodded against her shoulder. The nausea subsided almost an hour later, and Rusty realized that he felt a lot better. His throat still hurt pretty badly, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been.

"How is your stomach?" Emily asked nervously. She had been prepared to bolt from the room if Rusty got sick.

"Better."

"Good," Emily said, relieved. "Not that it would have been the _first_ time someone threw up in Mom's bed..."

Ricky rolled his eyes. "You don't have to bring that up every opportunity you get. I doubt anyone here will ever forget that it happened."

"She claims that throwing up in her bed is fine, as long as you tell her," Rusty said. "Don't eat on the couch, though, she'll scratch your eyes right out." Emily and Ricky started laughing hysterically, and Sharon tried to glare down at Rusty. She couldn't muster a proper glare, though. She reached for the thermometer.

"You're clearly feeling better, so let's see how your temperature is doing." She held the thermometer under his tongue, and was relieved when it flashed a reading of 100.8. "Much better. The doctor wasn't kidding when he said the antibiotic would work quickly," Sharon commented. She gave him his last dose of his antibiotic for the day. "You guys ready to eat? Dinner should be ready."

The morning after Christmas, Sharon woke up refreshed for the first time in a few days. She and Rusty had both slept almost all night. Rusty had woken at 5:00 to go to the bathroom, so Sharon went ahead and gave him his medicine before he went back to sleep, so the antibiotic could start kicking in. She reached over and felt his forehead, and didn't feel much of a fever at all. She leaned down and kissed his forehead for a more accurate feel. He was a little warm, but not hot like he had been for the last couple of days.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to wake you," Sharon said, when she saw that Rusty's eyes were open.

"It's okay...I've got to get up before I get bedsores, anyway." Rusty's voice sounded better than it had since before his surgery. He and Sharon went to the kitchen, where Emily and Ricky were drinking coffee.

"Okay, let's try this Christmas thing again," Sharon said.

"How are you feeling?" Emily and Ricky asked at the same time.

"Much better. Thanks."

"All right, let's go see what Santa brought!" Sharon said excitedly. Rusty had noticed the gifts on the floor in the living room, but he hadn't looked that closely. He certainly wasn't expecting anything, so he headed to the couch to watch Emily and Ricky sift through their gifts. Ricky grabbed his arm and steered him torward his gifts.

"I have zero interest in chess, so those must be yours. Mine are over here." Rusty stared in amazement at the small mountain of gifts in front of him. Clothes, electronics, a new chess set, personal touches for his bedroom...And now Sharon was passing out the wrapped gifts from under the tree, and another small pile had formed beside him.

"Sharon, I-this is too much. I can't-"

"No, honey. This is your first Christmas with me. I had some catching up to do," Sharon said, cupping his cheek with her hand. After distributing the stockings, she went to the couch to open her own presents. She usually let Emily and Ricky know if she wanted anything specific, as they did with her. Emily was also good at picking out clothes and other things that Sharon would like, so she usually had a few surprises, too. The first gift she opened was from Rusty. It was a portable home ipod player, an A/V cord, and an iTunes gift card. Rusty watched as she opened it.

"It plays the music from iTunes on your phone, so you can get rid of those 18th century CDs. And, yes, you do have music on your phone. That cord will play it in your car, too."

"What..." Sharon looked at her phone. Rusty was right. She noticed all of her favorite songs, plus some she had forgotten about. "How did you do this?"

Rusty shrugged. "I have my ways." 'His ways' included spending hours transferring music from every CD Sharon owned to her iTunes on her computer, which Rusty knew she never even looked at. He was only able to do it after Sharon had gone to bed or when she was away from her desk at work, so it had taken several weeks. He had entered several of the artists into Pandora so he could hear similar music, and added songs that he thought she might like. He had updated Sharon's phone after she went to bed two nights before his surgery, knowing she wouldn't have a reason tap the music icon on her phone until now.

"Thank you so much, honey. This is so...Thoughtful," Sharon said, choking up. She had tears in her eyes. She composed herself and opened the rest of the gifts. Rusty had also given her a blue sweater, similar to one she already owned, but that had seen better days. It was one of her favorites, and she hadn't been able to part with it. Rusty had sought Emily's help on that one, and she had found one almost identical to the old one, and told Rusty how to order it. The gifts had cost Rusty a month's worth of allowance and service to Provenza, but it was worth it.

"Thank you guys so much. I love all of this," Sharon said to her children at large.

"Good. Because being Provenza's bitch for the month of November wasn't as fun as you would think," Rusty quipped.

Sharon's eyes widened. " _This_ is what that was about?" Rusty nodded shyly. She figured he was trying to earn extra money for something, but she never dreamed it was for her. "Honey, please...Just ask me for an advance on your allowance next time."

Rusty smiled. "Nah...You ask too many questions."


End file.
